w^i^^m^ 


«fadyidbjubjii  dfifidM'd^u^}icj^%£;€dQ^ 


UCSB  LIBRARY 


SELECT  EDITION 


Upturn  ^to^e  Wtitm> 


VOL.    V. 


BO<5TO]Sr : 
WEIiLS  AND   LILLV,   CODRT-STKMT. 

1820. 


LORDS 


BACON  AND   CLARENDON. 


TWO    VOLUMES    IN    ONE. 


BOSTON: 
WILIiB  AND    LILL.y,    COURT^TRIST. 

1820. 


} 


MORAL,  ECONOMICAL,  AND  POUTICAI., 


FRANCIS  BACON, 


BARON  or  VERULAM,  VISCOUNT.ST.  AlBAN. 


LORD  HIGH  CHANCELLOR  OF  ENGLAN*. 


MOCCCXX. 


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SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  AtTTHOR. 


THE  illostrious  author  of  these  Essays  is  so  geneially  known  as  a 
man  and  a  writer,  that  any  particular  account  of  him  on  the  pre- 
sent occasion  would  be  superRuous.  To  dwell,  indeed,  on  the  in- 
cidents of  my  Lord  Bacon's  life  would  be  an  unpleasant  and  mor- 
tifying task :  for  erer  must  it  be  deplored  by  the  lover  of  literature 
and  his  species,  that  the  possessor  of  this  extraordinary  intellect 
should  have  been  exposed  to  the  dangers  of  a  situation  to  which  hit 
firmness  was  unequal ;  and,  withdrawn  from  the  retirement  of  hiV 
study,  where  he  was  the  fisrt  of  men,  should  have  been  thrown 
into  the  tumult  of  businesit,  where  he  dlscorered  himself  to  be 
among  the  last.  The  superiority,  it  it  true,  of  his  talents  rendered 
hjm  every  where  eminent ;  and  when  we  see  him  acting  at  court, 
in  the  senate,  at  the  bar,  or  on  the  bench,  we  behold  an  engine  of 
mighty  force,  sufficient,  as  it  would  appear,  to  move  the  world 
but  when  we  carry  oigr  researdi  into  his  bosom,  we  find  nothing 
there  but  the  ebullition  and  froth  of  some  common  or  cormpt  pas- 
sims ;  and  we  are  struck  with  the  contrast  between  the  littloiess 
within,  and  the  ex}ubiti<Hi  of  energy  without.  But  peace  be.to  the 
failings  of  this  wonderful  man  !  they  who  alone  wera  affected  by 
them,  his  contemporaries  and  himself,  have  long  since  passed  to 
their  account ;  and  existing  no  more  as  the  statesman  or  the  judge, 
he  survives  to  us  only  in  bis  works,  as  the  father  of  esperimoital 
physics,  and  a  great  luminary  of  science. 

In  his  literary  character  he  must  always  be  contemplated  with  as- 
tonishment ;  and  we  cannot  sufficiently  wonder  at  the  riches  or  the 
powers  of  his  mind ;  at  that  penetration  which  no  depth  could 
elude ;  that  comprehensioD  for  whiqh  do  object  was  too  large ;  that 


8 

^gour  «h)ch  no  labour  could  eNliaust  ;v  that  lucmory  which  no 
pn»ssiirc  of  acquisitions  fO".W  subdue.  By  his  two  prcat  works, 
"  On  the  Advaiiceinnit  cf  LeiiiTiing,"  and  "  Thi  Ntw  Onmn  of 
the  Sciences-,"  written  smid  the  distraction  of  bHsipess  »nd  of 
«ares.  «ufflc?pnt  of  fhpnsplres  to  have  occupied  the  whole  of  any  . 
other  niii>il.  did  this  n'irhly  Rei'ius  tint  break  the  shaekles  of  th^t  ■ 
scholastic  philosophv.  which  lone  bad  cn'sb<d  ih? human  intellect ; 
and  dirertirc;  the  attention  from  wordi  to  thinsr*.  from  theory  to 
experiment,  demonstrate  the  mad  to  that  heij^t  of  science  (ffl 
which  the  modems  are  now  seated,  and  wMch  the  ancients  wore 
Tuable  to  re^ch 

But  these  prand  displsys  of  Ms  irenius  and  knowler'ge  sir  now 
chiefly  recarded,  as  ihev  presert  to  the  cnr'.oiuian  illi-strious  eri- 
dence  of  the  powers  of  the  hnman  mind  Havine  awJlVned  and 
directed  theexprf ions  of  Fnrope.  the  nsefulncw  of  these  ■«ntii»B» 
*as  in  a  trreat  depree  be*>n  superseded  bv  the  labouis  of  the  snhie- 
qoent  adventurer  in  science  t  who.  nursuin?tbe  track  marktd  out 
for  them  bv  their  eteat  master  hav<'  foniid  it  openm?  into  a  rr^ion 
of  clear  and  ste«dv  lieht.  Of  the  oth**nH)i*s  of  this  erreat  nan, 
which  were  ob"ects  <f  admirntion  to  his  own  times,  the  following 
EanVs  an-  perhaps  tb«>  onlv  ones  which  retain  much  of  their  pris- 
tine  popularity.  His  Inw  treatises  have  always  beeo  resTicterfhy 
their  sTihieot  within  the  line  of  a  pmfes«ioial  e-rcle:  ofhi*  s'ate 
papers  and  speeches  the  power  his  expir-d  with  the  interest  of 
those  events  to  which  they  were  atta'-hed  ;  ar^l  his  History  of  Henry 
the  Seventh,  blei'^ished  as  it  is  wWh  somethine:  more  than  those  de. 
fecH  of  stvle  which  from  the  .  ximple  and  patronaE:e  of  a  p'llant 
king,  then  heRan  to  infect  the  ptirity  of  our  ooropiftsitidn,  is  in  these 
llays  consulted  only  by  the-jfrw 

But  these  E«says,  written  at  a  period  of  better  taste,  and  <m- 
iubjects  of  immediate  importance  to  the  conduct  of  common  life, 
"  such  as  come  home  to  men's  business  and  bosoms,"  are  still  read 
■with  pleasure,  and  continue  to  possess,  in  the  present  ape.  nearly 
as  much  estimation  as  they  did  in  that  which  witnessed  their  first 
publication.  From  the  circumstance  of  their  having  engaged  his 
attention  at  different  and  remote  intemds  of  his  We,  they  appear 


to  hare  shared  a  more  than  common  portion  of  their  great  autliors* 
regard;  and  thfv  ai-p  evidently  corapos-^in  his  happiest  manner, 
and  with  the  ThII  stretch  of  hi«  powers.  In  th.-m  we  are  presented 
with  all  thf  wisdom  which  thedeepest  erudition  co'ild  recover  from 
the  ffiilph  of  hiiried  a^s ;  and  with  all  that  also,  whieh  the  most 
sagacious  and  accurate  observation  could  select  from  the  spectacle 
of  tiie  -massing  scene:  in  them  we  behold  iaia^nation  and  know- 
ledap  ••qnallv  succ<»ssfiil  in  their  exertions ;  this  as  the  contributor 
of  truths  ind  that  as  oiienine:  her  afl 'tent  wardtoh^  for  their  dress  ; 
oni^  like  the  earth  throwing;  o"t  of  her  Ijosom  the  organize d  forms 
•f  matter,  and  the  other  like  the  son  arraying  them  in  an  endless 
Tarietyof  hues. 

Of  »!'••  Essay,  that  most  aq;reeahle  and  perhaps  most  useful  vdii- 
«le  of  instruction,  my  lord  Bacon  must  be  co.widered.  at  least  in 
•Uf  iiMintry,  as  the  inventor;  and  *o  the  success  of  his  attempt 
may  be  ascribed  that  numerous  race  of  writers,  to  whose  short  and 
entertainini;  lessons,  the  pub'ic  niind  maybe  n^»«ded  «s  principal- 
ly indebted  fc»r  its  present  ciiHlTat!ot>  and  refinement 

Thus  stro\i8:Iy  recommended  by  th-ir  intrinsic  worth  these 
Kssars  possess  also  an  additionil  and  accide'.tal  value,  from  the 
circumstance  of  tlieir  can'titutiug  all  which,  in  some  sense,  re- 
mains of  their  admicable  author.  His  other  works,  as  it  has  been 
already  remarked  are  in  fact  extinct  to  'he  many,  and  now  gene- 
rally known  only  as  a  mighty  name  :  and  the  writer  of  these  short 
eompoat'oiis  the  great  lord  Bacon  may  nut  improperly  he  con- 
sidon'das  shrunk,  like  the  ashes  of  an  Alexand-r  in  sPgolden  uib, 
within  the  limits  of  this  little  but  sterling  volume. 


10 

1 

TO    MR.    ANTHONY    BAC30N. 

HIS    DEAR    BROTHEB. 

LOVING  and  beloyed  brother,  I  do  now  like  some  that  have  sb 
orcbard  ill  neighboured,  that  gather  their  fruit  before  it  is  ripe, 
to  prevent  stealing.  These  fragments  of  my  conceits  were  ginng 
to  print :  to  labour  the  stay  of  them  had  been  troublesome,  and 
sabject  to  interpretation  ;  to  let  ihem  pass  had  been  to  adventure 
the  wTong  they  might  receive  by  untrue  copies,  or  by  some  gar- 
niihment  which  it  might  please  any  that  should  set  them  forth  to 
bestow  upon  them ;  therefore  I  held  it  best  discretion  to  publish 
them  myself  as  they  passed  long  ago  from  my  pea,  without  any 
further  disgiaee  than  the  weaknfss  of  the  author ;  and  as  I  did  eve^ 
hold,  there  might  be  as  great  a  vanity  in  retiring  and  withdraw- 
ing men's  conceits  (except  they  be  of  Some  nature)  from  the  world, 
as  in  obtruding  them  :  so  in  these  particulars  1  have  played  myself 
the  inquisitor,  and  find  nothing  to  my  understanding  in  them  con- 
trary or  infectious  to  the  state  of  religion  or  manners,  but  rather,  as 
I'suppose,  medicinable :  only  I  dislike  now  to  pu'  them  out,  because 
they  will  be  like  the  late  new  halfpaice,  which,  though  the  silver 
were  good,  yet  the  pieces  wtie  small ;  but  since  they  would  not 
stay  with  their  master,  but  would  needs  travel  abroad,  I  have  pre- 
ferred them  to  you  that  are  next  myself;  dedicating  them,  such 
as  they  are,  to  our  love,  in  the  depth  where«f,  I  assure  you,  I 
sometimes  wish  your  infirmities  translated  upon  myself,  that  her 
inaje«y  might  have  the  service  of  so  ac'ive  and  able  a  mind ;  and 
I  might  be  with  excise  confined  to  these  contemplations  and 
studies,  for  which  I  am  fittest :  so  commend  I  you  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  Divine  Majesty. 

Your  entire  loving  brother, 

FRANCIS  BACON. 
From  my  chamber  at  Gray^s  Inn, 
thitS0thofJmuarylS97. 


11 

TO    MY    LOVING   BROTHKR, 

SIR   JOHN    CONSTABLE,    KT. 

NIY  last  Essays  I  dedicated  to  my  dear  Inother,  Mr.  Antbony  Bar 
con,  who  is  with  God.  LooldDg  among  my  papers  this  vacation, 
I  fbuud  others  of  the  same  nature :  which  if  I  myself  shall  not  suf- 
fer to  be  lost,  it  seemeth  the  world  will  not,  by  the^often  printing 
of  the  former.  Missing  my  brother,  I  found  you  next ;  in  respect 
of  hood,  both  of  near  alliance,  and  of  stnught  friendship  and  socie- 
ty, and  particularly  of  communication  in  studies ;  wherein  I  must 
acknowledge  myself  bdiolden  to  you  :  for  as  my  business  found 
rest  in  my  contemplations,  so  my  contemplations  ever  found  rest 
in  your  loving  conference  and  judgment :  so  wishing  you  all  good, 
I  remain 

Tour  loving  brother  and  friend, 

I*13.  FRANCIS  BACON. 


Sight  Honourable  my  very  good  Lord 

THE    DUKE    OF   BUCKINGHAM, 

His  Grace  Lord  High  Admiral  of  England. 

Excellent  lord, 

SOLOMON  says,  "  A  good  name  is  as  a  precious  ointment ;"  and  I 
assure  myself  such  will  your  Grace's  name  be  with  posterity :  ftr 
your  fortune  and  merit  both  have  been  eminent ;  and  you  have 
planted  things  that  are  like  to  last.    I  do  now  publish  my  Essays ; 


12 

which  of  all  my  other  works,  have  been  most  cunent ;  for  that,  ti 
it  sceuj«,  liK-j  coiiie  home  to  men's  business  aiid  Uisoms-  1  bare 
enlaig;^  Uiem  both  in  number  and  weight ;  so  that  iluy  are  indfed 
a  new  work  :  I  thought  it  thirefore  agreeable  to  ray  affection  and 
•hljgitioD  to  your  Grace,  to  prefix  your  name  before  them,  both  in 
English  and  Latin  :  tor  1  do  conceive,  that  thf  Latiu  volume  of 
them,  being  iu  the  universal  language,  my  last  as  locig  as  book* 
last.'  My  Instauratiou  1  dedicated  to  the  King ;  my  History  of  Henry 
the  Seventh,  which  I  liave  now  translated  imo  Latin,  and  m>  por- 
tions of  Natural  History,  to  the  Prince ;  ai»d  these  I  dedicatr  to 
your  lirace,  hein^  of  the  best  Iruits,  that,  by  the  good  uicrease 
which  God  gives  to  my  pen  and  labours,  I  could  yield.  God  lead 
your  Grace  by  the  liand. 

Your  Grace's  m«8t  obliged  and  faithful  senram, 

FRANCIS  ST.  ALB  AN. 


ESSAYS. 


I.     OF     TRUTH. 


What  is  truth?  said  jesting  Pilate,  and 
would  not  stay  for  an  arrswer.  Certainly 
there  be,  that  delight  in  giddiness,  and 
count  it  a  bondage  to  fix  a  belief;  affect- 
ing free  will  in  thinking,  as  well  as  in  act- 
ing: and  though  the  sects  of  philosophers 
of  that  kind  be  gone,  yet  there  remain 
certain  discoursing  wits  which  are  of  the 
same  veins,  though  there  be  not  so  much 
blood  in  them  as /was  in  those  of  the  an- 
cients. But  it  is  not  only  the  difficulty 
and  labour  which  men  take  in  finding  out 
of  truth;  nor  again,  that,  when  it  is  found,  it 
imposeth  upon  men's  thoughts,  that  doth 
bring  lies  in  favour;  but  a  natural,  though 
corrupt  love  of  the  lie  itself  One  of  the 
later  schools  of  the  Grecians  examineth  the 
matter,  and  is  at  a  stand  to  think  what  should 
vol..  V.  2 


m 


14  LORD    bacon's    essays. 

be  in  it,  that  men  should  love  lies,  where 
neither  they   make  for    pleasure,   as  with 
poets;  nor  for  advantage,  as  with  the  mer- 
chant; but  for  the  lie's  sake.     But  I  cannot 
tell:  this  same  truth  is  a  naked   and  open 
day-light,  that  doth  not  shew  the  masques, 
and  mummeries,  and  triumphs  of  the  world, 
half  so  stately   and  daintily  as  candlelights. 
Truth  may  perhaps  come  to   the  price  of 
a  pearl,  that  sheweth  best  by  day;  but  it 
will  not  rise  to  the  price  of  a  diamond  or 
carbuncle,  that  sheweth  best  in  varied  lights. 
A  mixture  of  a  lie  doth  ever  add  pleasure. 
Doth  any   man  doubt,    that  if  there    were 
taken  out   of  men's   minds,  vain   opinions, 
flattering   hopes,  false   valuations,   imagina- 
tions  as   one  would,  and  the   like,   but  it 
would  leave  the  minds  of  a  number  of  men 
poor   shrunken   things,  full   of  melancholy 
indisposition,  and  unpleasing  to  themselves? 
One  of  the  fathers,  in  great  severity,  called 
poesy,  '*  vinum  daemonum,"  because  it  tilleth 
the  imagination,  and  yet  it  is  but  with  the 
shadow   of  a  lie.     But    it    is   not    the    lie 
that  passeth  through  the  mind,  but  the  he, 
that  sinketh  in  and  settleth   in  it,  that  doth 
the  hurt,  such  as  we  spake  of  before.     But 
howsoever  these  things   are  thus  in.  men's 
depraved  judgments  and  affections,  yet  truth 


OF    TRUTH.  15 

which  only  doth  judge  itself,  teacheth  that 
the  inquiry  of  truth,  which  is  the  love 
making,  or  wooing  of  it;  the  knowledge  of 
truth,  which  is  the  presence  of  it;  and  the 
belief  of  truth,  which  is  the  enjoying  of  it; 
is  the  sovereign  good  of  human  nature. 
The  first  creature  of  God,  in  the  works 
of  the  days,  was  the  light  of  the  sense;  the 
last  was  the  light  of  reason;  and  his  sab- 
bath work,  ever  since,  is  the  illumination 
of  his  Spirit  First  he  breathed  light  upon 
,  the  face  of  the  matter,  or  chaos;  then  he 
breathed  light  into  the  face  of  man;  and 
still  he  breatheth  and  inspireth  light  into 
the  face  of  his  chosen.  The  poet  that 
beautified  the  sect,  that  was  otherwise  in- 
ferior to  the  rest,  saith  yet  excellently 
well,  "  It  is  a  pleasure  to  stand  upon  the 
shore,  and  to  see  ships  toss'd  upon  the 
sea;  a  pleasure  to  stand  in  the  window  of 
a  castle,  and  to  see  a  battle,  and  the  ad- 
ventures thereof  below:  but  no  pleasure 
is  comparable  to  the  standing  upon  the 
vantage  ground  of  truth  (a  hill  not  to  be 
commanded,  and  where  the  air  is  always 
clear  and  serene),  and  to  see  the  errors, 
and  wanderings,  and  mists,  and  tempests, 
in  the  vale  below:"  so  always,  that  this 
prospect  be  with  pity,  and  not  with  swel- 


16  LOflD    BACON  S    ESSAYS. 

ling  or  pride.  Certainly  it  is  heaven  upon 
earth,  to  have  a  man's  mind  move  in  chari- 
ty, rest  in  Providence,  and  turn  upon  the 
poles  of  truth. 

To  pass  from  theological  and  philoso- 
phical truth  to  the  truth  of  civil  business, 
it  will  be  acknowledged,  even  by  those 
that  practise  it  not,  that  clear  and  round 
dealing  is  the  honour  of  man's  nature,  and 
that  mixture  of  falsehood  is  like  alloy  in 
coin  of  gold  and  silver,  which  may  make 
the  metal  work  the  better,  but  it  embaseth 
it:  for  these  winding  and  crooked  courses 
are  the  goings  of  the  serpent;  which  goeth 
basely  upon  the  belly  and  not  upon  the 
feet.  There  is  no  vice  that  doth  so  cover 
a  man  with  shame,  as  to  be  found  false  and 
perfidious:  and  therefore  xMontaigne  saith 
prettily,  when  he  inquired  the  reason,  why 
the  word  of  the  lie  should  be  such  a  dis- 
grace, and  such  an  odious  charge,  "  If  it  be 
well  weighed,  to  say  that  a  man  lieth,  is  as 
much  as  to  say  that  he  is  brave  towards 
God,  and  a  coward  towards  men:  for  a  he 
faces  God,  and  shrinks  from  man."  Surely 
the  wickedness  of  fdsehood  and  breach  of 
faith  cannot  possibly  be  so  highly  expressed, 
as  in  that  it  shall  be  the  last  peal  to  call  the 
judgments  of  God  upon  the  generations  of 


OF    DEATH.  17 

men:  it  being  foretold,  that  when  "Christ 
Cometh,"  he  shall  not  "find  faith  upon 
earth." 

4 

n.    OF    DEATH. 

Men  fear  Death  as  children  fear  to  go  iotq 
the  dark;  and  as  that  natural  fear  in  children 
is  increased  with  tales,  so  is  the  other. 
Certainly,  the  contemplation  of  death,  as 
the  wages  of  sin,  and  passage  to  another 
world,  is  holy  and  religious;  but  the  fear  of 
it,  as  a  tribute  due  unto  nature,  is  weak. 
Yet  in  religious  meditations  there  is  some- 
times mixture  of  vanity  and  of  superstition. 
You  shall  read  in  some  of  the  friars'  books 
of  mortification,  that  a  man  should  think 
with  himself  what  the  pain  is,  if  he  have  but 
his  finger's  end  pressed,  or  tortured,  and 
thereby  imagine  what  the  pains  of  death  are, 
when  the  whole  body  is  corrupted  and  dis- 
solved; when  many  times  death  passeth  with 
less  pain  than  the  torture  of  a  limb;  for  the 
most  vital  parts  are  not  the  quickest  of 
sense:  and  by  him  that  spake  onl}'^  as  a 
philosopher  and  natural  man,  it  was  well 
said,  "  Pompa  mortis  magis  terret,  quam 
mors  ipsa."     Groans,  and  convulsions,  and 


18  LORD    bacon's    essays. 

a  discoloured  face,  and  friends  weeping,  and 
blacks  and  obsequies,  and  the  like,  shew  death 
terrible.     It  is  worthy  the  observing,  that 
there  is  no  passion  in  the  raind  of  man  so 
weak,  but  it  mates  and  masters  the  fear  of 
death;  and  therefore  death  is  no  such  terri- 
ble enemy  when  a  man  hatli  so  many  atten- 
dants about  him  that  can  win  the  combat  of 
Tiim.     Revenge  triumphs  over  death;  love 
slights  it;  honour  aspireth  to  it;  grief  flieth 
to  it;  fear  pre-occupieth  it;  nay,  we  read, 
after  Otho   the  emperor  had  slam  himsell, 
pity  (which  is  the  tenderest   of  affections) 
provoked  many  to  die  out  of  mere  compas- 
sion to  their  sovereign,  and  as   the   truest 
sort  of  followers.     Niy,  Seneca  adds,  nice- 
ness  and  satietv:   "  Cogita  quamdiu  eadem 
feceris;  mori  velle,   non  tantum  fortis,  aut 
miser,    sed    etiam   fastidiosus    potest."      A 
man    would    die,  though   he  were    neither 
valiant  nor  miserable,    only  upon  a  weari- 
ness to  do  the  same  thing  so  oft  over  and 
over.      It  is    no   less  worthy    to    observe, 
how  little  alteration  in  good  spirits  the  ap- 
proaches   of  death  make;  for  they  appear 
to  be    the    same    men  till   the  last   instant. 
Augustus    CaBsar    died    in   a    comphment : 
"Livia,    conjugii    nostri    memor,    vive    et 
Tale."     Tiberius  in  dissimulation,  as  Taci- 


OF    DEATH.  19 

tus  saith  of  him,  "  Jam  Tiberium  vires  et 
corpus,  non  dissimulatio,  deserebant:"  Ves- 
pasian in  a  jest,  sitting  upon  the  stool, 
"  Ut  puto  Deus  tio:"  Galba  with  a  sen- 
tence, "  Feri,  si  ex  re  sit  populi  Romani," 
holding  foi'th  his  neck:  Septimus  Severus 
in  dispatch,  "  Adeste,  si  quid  mihi  restat 
agendum,"  and  the  like.  Certainly  the 
Stoics  bestowed  too  much  cost  upon  death, 
and  by  their  great  preparations  mitde  it 
appear  more  fearful.  Better,  saith  he, 
"  qui  .finem  wtaj- extremum  inter  munera 
ponat  naturae."  It  is-  as  natural  to  die  as 
to  be  born;  and  to  a  little  infint,  perhaps, 
the  one  is  as  painful  as  the  other.  He 
that  dies  in  an  earnest  pursuit,  is  like  one 
that  is  wounded  in  hot  blood;  who,  for  the 
time,  scarce  fee's  the  hurt;  and  therefore 
a  mind  fixed  and  bent  upon  somewhat  that 
is,  good,  doth  avert  the  dolours  of  death: 
but,  above  all,  believe  it,  the  sweetest  can- 
ticle is,  "Nunc  diniittis,"  when  a  man 
hath  obtained  worthy  ends  and  expecta- 
tions. Death  hath  this  also,  that  it  open- 
eth  the  gate  to  good  fame,  and  extinguishetb 
envy:  "  Exstinctus  amabitur  idem." 


iQ  LORD    bacon's    essays. 


III.      OF    UNITY    IN    RELIGION. 

Religion  being  the  chief  bond  of  human 
society,  it  is  a  happy  thing  when  itself  is 
well  contained  within  the  true  bond  of 
unity.  The  quarrels  and  divisions  about 
religion  were  evils  unknown  to  the  heathen. 
The  reason  was,  because  the  religion  of 
the  heathen  consisted  rather  in  rites  and 
ceremonies,  than  in  any  constant  belief: 
for  you  may  imagine  what  kind  of  faith 
theirs  was,  when  the  chief  doctors  and 
fathers  of  their  church  were  the  poets. 
But  the  true  God  hath  this  attribute,  that 
he  is  a  jealous  God;  and  therefore  his 
worship  and  religion  will  endure  no  mix- 
ture nor  partner.  We  shall  therefore  speak 
a  few  words  concerning  the  unity  of  the 
church;  what  are  the  fruits  thereof;  what 
the  bonds;  and  what  the  means. 

The  fruits  of  unity  (next  unto  the  well- 
pleasing  of  God,  which  is  all  in  all)  are  two; 
the  one  towards  those  that  are  without  the 
church,  the  other  towards  those  that  are 
within.  For  the  former,  it  is  certain,  that 
heresies  and  schisms  are  of  all  others  the 
greatest  scandals;  yea,  more  than  corruption 
ef  manners:  for  as   in  the  natural  body  a 


"OP    CMTY    IN    RELIGION.  21 

wound  or  solution  of  continuity  is  worse 
than  a  corrupt  humour,  so  in  the  spiritual: 
so  that  nothing  doth  so  much  keep  men  out 
of  the  church,  and  drive  men  out  of  the 
church,  as  breach  of  unity;  and,  therefore, 
whensoever  it  cometh  to  that  pass  that  one 
saith,  "  ecce  in  deserto,"  another  saith, 
"  ecce  in  penetraUbus;"  that  is,  when  some 
men  seek  Christ  in  the  conventicles  of  here- 
tics, and  others  in  an  outward  face  of  a 
church,  that  voice  had  need  continually 
to  sound  in  men's  ears,  "  nolite  exire," — 
"  go  not  out."  The  doctor  of  the  Gentiles 
(the  propriety  of  whose  vocation  drew  him 
to  have  a  special  care  of  those  without) 
saith,  "  If  an  heathen  come  in,  and  hear 
you  speak  with  several  tongues,  will  he  not 
say  that  you  are  mad?''  and,  certainly,  it  is 
little  better:  when  atheists  and  profane 
persons  do  hear  of  so  many  discordant  and 
contrary  opinions  in  religion,  it  doth  avert 
them  from  the  church,  and  maketh  them 
"  to  sit  down  in  the  chair  of  the  scorners." 
It  is  but  a  light  thing  to  be  vouched  in  so 
serious  a  matter,  but  yet  it  expresseth  well 
the  deformity.  There  is  a  master  of  scof- 
fing, that  in  his  catalogue  of  books  of  a 
feigned  library,  sets  down  this  title  of  a 
book,    "  The   Morris-Dance   of  Heretics:" 


22  LORD  bacon's  essays, 

for,  indeed,  every  sect  of  them  hath  a  diverse 
posture,  or  cringe,  by  themselves,  which 
cannot  but  move  derision  in  worldlings  and 
depraved  politics,  who  are  apt  to  contemn 
holy  things. 

As  for  the  fruit  towards  those  that^  are 
within,  it  is  peace,  which  containeth  infinite 
blessings;  it  establisheth  faith;  it  kindleth 
charity;  the  outward  peace  of  the  church 
distilleth  into  peace  of  conscience,  and  it 
turneth  the  labours  of  writing  and  reading 
controversies  into  treatises  of  mortification 
and  devotion. 

Concerning  the  bonds  of  unity,  the  trne 
placing ofthemimporteth  exceedingly.  There 
appear  to  be  two  extremes:  for  to  certain 
zealots  all  speech  of  pacification  is  odious. 
"  Is  it  peace,  Jehu?"-7-"  What  hast  thou  to 
do  with  peace?  turn  thee  behind  me."  Peace 
is  not  the  matter,  but  following  and  party. 
Contrariwise,  certain  Laodiceans  and  luke- 
warm persons  think  they  may  accommodate  ^ 
points  of  reliajion  by  middle  ways,  and  taking 
part  of  both,  and  uitly  reconcilements,  as 
if  they  would  make  an  arbitrement  between  ^ 
God  and  man.  Both  these  extreme*  are  to^^. 
be  avoided;  which  will  be  done  if  the  league 
of, Christians,  penned  by  our  Saviour  him- 
self, were  in  the  two  cross  clauses  thereof 


OF    UNITY    IN    RELIGION.  23 

soundly  and  plainly  expounded:  "He  that 
is  not  with  us  is  against  us;"  and  again,  "  He 
that  is  not  against  us  is  with  us;"  that  is,  if 
the  points  fundamental,  and  of  suhstance  in 
religion,  were  truly  discerned  and  distin- 
guished from  points  not  merely  of  faith,  hut 
of  opinion,  order,  or  good  intention.  This 
is  a  thing  may  seem  to  many  a  matter  trivial, 
and  done  already;  but  if  it  were  done  less 
partially,  it  would  be  embraced  more  gene- 
rally. 

Of  this  I  may  give  only  this  advice,  ac- 
cording to  my  small  model.  Men  ought  to 
take  heed  of  rending  God's  rhurch  by  two 
kinds  of  controversies;  the  one  is,  when  the 
matter  of  the  point  controverted  is  too  small 
and  light,  not  worth  the  heat  and  strife  about 
it,  kindled  only  by  contradiction;  for,  as  it 
is  noted  by  one  of  the  fathers,  Christ's  coat 
indeed  bad  no  seam,  but  the  church's  ves- 
ture was  of  divers  colours;  whereupon  he 
saith,  "  in  veste  varietas  sit,  scissura  non 
sit,"  they  be  two  things,  unity  and  uniformi- 
ty; the  other  is,  when  the  matter  of  the 
point  controverted  is  great,  but  it  is  driven 
to  an  over  great  subtilty  and  obscurity,  so 
that  it  becofueth  a  thing  rather  ingenious 
than  substantial.  A  man  that  is  of  judgment 
and  understanding  shall  sometimes  hear  ig- 


24  LORD    6AC0N  S    ESSAYS. 

BoraDt  men  differ,  and  know  well  withia 
himself,  that  those  which  so  differ  mean  one 
thing,  and  yet  they  themselves  would  never 
agree:  and  if  it  come  so  to  pass  in  that  dis- 
tance of  judgment,  which  is  between  man 
and  man,  shall  we  not  think  that  God  above, 
that  knows  the  heart,  doth  not  discern  that 
frail  men,  in  some  of  their  contradictions, 
intend  the  same  thing,  and  accepteth  of  both? 
The  nature  of  such  controversies  is  excel- 
lently expressed  by  St.  Paul,  in  the  warning 
and  precept  that  he  giveth  concerning  the 
same,  "  devita  profanas  vocum  novitates,  et 
oppositiones  falsi  nominis  scientiae."  Men 
create  oppositions  which  are  not,  and  put 
them  into  new  terms  so  fixed,  as  whereas 
the  meaning  ought  to  govern  the  term,  (he 
term  in  effect  governeth  the  meaning.  There 
be  also  two  folse  peaces,  or  unities:  the  one, 
when  the  peace  is  grounded  but  upon  an 
implicit  ignorance;  for  all  colours  will  agree 
in  the  dark:  the  other,  when  it  is  pieced  up 
upon  a  direct  admission  of  contraries  in  fun- 
damental points:  for  truth  and  falsehood,  in 
euch  things,  are  like  the  iron  and  clay  in  the 
toes  of  Nebuchadnezzar's  image;  they  may 
cleave,  but  they  will  not  incorporate. 

Concerning  the  means  of  procuring  unity, 
men  must  beware,  that,  in  the  procuring  or 


OF    UMTy    IN    RELIGION.  2b 

muniting  of  religious  unity,  they  do  not  dis- 
solve and  deface  the  laws  of  charity  and  of 
human  society  There  be  two  swords  amongst 
Christians,  the  spiritual  and  temporal;  and 
both  have  their  due  office  and  place  in  the 
maintenance  of  religion:  but  we  may  not 
take  up  the  third  sword,  which  is  Mahomet's 
sword,  or  like  unto  it:  that  is,  to  propagate 
religion  by  wars,  or  by  sanguinary  persecu- 
tions to  force  consciences;  except  it  be  in 
cases  of  overt  scandal,  blasphemy,  or  inter- 
mixture of  practice  against  the  state;  much 
less  to  nourish  seditions;  to  authorize  con- 
spiracies and  rebellions;  to  put  the  sword 
into  the  people's  hands,  and  the  like,  tend- 
ing to  the  subversion  of  all  government, 
which  is  the  ordinance  of  God;  for  this  is 
but  to  dash  the  first  table  against  the  second; 
and  so  to  consider  men  as  Christians,  as  we 
forget  that  they  are  men.  Lucretius  the 
poet,  when  he  beheld  the  act  of  Agamemnon, 
that  could  endure  the  sacrificing  of  his  own 
daughter,  exclaimed: 

"  Tantum  religio  potnit  suadere  maloram.'' 

What  would  he  have  said,  if  he  had  known 
of  the  massacre  in  France,  or  the  powder 
treason  of  England?   He  would  have  been 


26  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

seven  times  more  epicure  and  atheist  than 
he  was;  for  as  the  temporal  sword  is  to  be 
drawn  with  great  circumsjiection  in  cases  of 
religion,  so  it  is  a  thing  monstrous  to  put  it 
into  the  bands  of  the  common   people;   let 
that  be  left  unto  the  anabaptists,  and  other 
furies.     It  was  great  blasphemy,  when  the 
devil  said,  "1  will  ascend  and  be  like  the 
Highest;"  but  it  is   greater   blasphemy  to 
personate   God,  and  bring  him   in   saying, 
"  1  will  descend,  and  be  like  the  prince  ol 
darkness:"   and  what  is  it  better,  to  make 
the  cause  of  religion  to  descend  to  the  cruel 
and  execrable  actions  of  murdering  princes, 
butchery  ot  people,  and  subvers'ion  of  stales 
and  governments?.  Surely  this   is  to  bring 
down  the  Holy  Ghost,  instead  of  the  like- 
ness of  a  dove,  in  the  shape  of  a  vulture  or 
raven;  and  to  set  out  of  the  bark  of  a  Chris- 
tian church  a  flag  of  a  bark  of  pirates  and 
assassins,  therefore  it  is  most  necessary  +hat 
the  church  bj  doctrine  and  decree,  princes 
by  their  sword,  and  all  learnings,  both  Chris- 
tian and  moral,  as  by  their  mercury  rod  to 
damn,  and  send  to  hell  for  ever,  those  facts 
and  opinions  tending  to  the  support  of  the 
same,  as  hath  been  already  m   good    part 
done.     Surely  in  councils  concerning  reli- 
gion, that  counsel  of  the  apostle  would  be 


OP    REVENGE.  27 

prefixed,  •'  Ira  hominis  non  implet  justitiam 
Dei:"  and  it  was  a  notable  observation  of  a 
wise  father,  and  no  less  ingenuously  confess- 
ed, that  those  which  held  and  persuaded 
pressure  of  consciences,  were  commonly 
interested  therein  thea>selves  for  their  own 
ends. 


IV.       OF    REVENGE. 

Revenge  is  a  kind  of  wild  justice,  which 
the  more  man's  nature  runs  to,  the  more 
ought  law  to  weed  it  out:  for  as  for  the  first 
wrong,  it  doth  but  offend  the  law,  but  the 
revenge  of  that  wrong  putteth  the  law  out 
of  office.  Certainly,  in  taking  revenge,  a 
man  is  but  even  with  his  enemy;  but  in 
passing  it  over  he  is  superior;  for  it  is  a 
prince's  part  to  pardon:  and  Solomon,  I  am 
sure,  saith,  "It  is  the  glory  of  a  man  to 
pass  by  an  offence."  That  which  is  past  is 
gone  and  irrecoverable,  and  wise  men  have 
enough  to  do  with  things  present  and  to 
come;  therefore  they  do  but  trifle  with 
themselves,  that  labour  in  past  matters. 
There  is  no  man  doth  a  wrong  for  the 
wrong's  sake,  but  thereby  to  purchase  him- 
self profit,  or  pleasure,  or  honour,  of  the 


28  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

like;  therefore  whv  should  I  he  angry  with 
a  man  for  loving  himself  hetter  than  me? 
And  if  any  man  should  do  wrong,  merely 
out  of  ill-nature,  why,  yet  it  is  but  like  the 
thorn   or  brier,  which  prick  and  scratch 
because  they  can  do  no  other.     The  most 
tolerable  sort  of  revenge  is  for  those  wrongs 
which  there  is  no  law  to  remedy:  but  then, 
let  a  man  take  heed  the  revenge  be  such  as 
there  is  no  law  to  punish,  else  a  man  s  ene- 
my is  still  before  hand,  and  it  is  two  for  one. 
Some,  when  they  take  revenge,  are  desirous 
the  party  should  know  when  it  cometh:  this 
is  the  more  generous;  for  the  delight  seem- 
eth  to  be  not  so  much  in  doing  the  hurt  as 
in  making  the  party  repent:   but  base  and 
crafty  cowards  are  like  the  arrovv  that  flieth 
in  the  dark.     Cosmus,  duke  of  Florence, 
had  a  desperate  saying  against  perfidious  or 
neglecting  friends,  as  if  those  ^Yougs'yer'^ 
unpardonable.     "  You  shall  read      sa.th  he, 
"that  we  are   commanded  to  forgive   our 
enemies,  but  you  never  read  that  we  are 
commanded  to  forgive   our  friends.       But 
yet  the  spirit  of  Job  was  in  a  hetter  tune. 
"  Shall  we,"  saith  he,  "  take  good  at  God  s 
hands,  and  not  be  content  to  take  evil  also 
and  so   of  friends   in   a   proportion.      Ihis 
is  certain,  that  a  man  that  studieth  revenge, 


OP     ADVERSITY.  zy 

keeps  his  own  wounds  green,  which  other- 
wise would  hesl  and  do  well.  Public  re- 
venges are  for  the  most  part  fortunate;  as 
that  for  the  death  of  Caesar;  for  the  death 
of  Pertinax;  for  the  death  of  Henry  the 
Third  of  France;  and  many  more.  But  in 
private  revenges  it  is  not  so;  nay,  rather 
vindicative  persons  live  the  life  of  witches; 
who,  as  they  are  mischievous,  so  end  theys, 
unfortunate. 


v.    OF  ADVERSITY. 

It  was  a  high  speech  of  Seneca  (after  the 
manner  of  the  Stoics),  that  the  good  things 
which  belonajto  prosperity  are  to  be  wished, 
but  the  good  things  that  belong  to  adversity 
are  to  be  admired:  "Bona  rerum  secunda- 
rum  optabilia,  adversarum  mirabilia.''  Cer- 
tainly, if  miracles  be  the  command  over  na- 
ture, they  appear  most  in  adversity.  It  is 
yet  a  higher  speech  of  his  than  the  otlter 
(much  too  high  for  a  heathen),  "It  is  true 
greatness  to  have  in  one  the  frailty  of  a 
man,  and  the  security  of  a  God:" — "  Vere 
magnum  habere  fragilitatem  hominis,  securi- 
tatem  Dei."  This  would  have  done  better 
in  poesy,  where  transcendeocies  are  aiore 

VOL.    V.  3 


30  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

allowed;  and  the  poets,  indeed,  have  been 
busy  with  it;    for  it  is  in  effect  the  thing 
which  is  figured  in  that  strange  hction  of  the 
ancient  poets,  which  seemeth  not  to  be  with- 
out mystery;    nay,  and  to  have  some  ap. 
proach  to  the  state  of  a  Chnst.an  "that  Her- 
cules, when  he  went  to  unbind  Prometheus 
fbv   whom  human   nature  is   represented), 
sailed  the  length  of  the  great  ocean  in  an  ear- 
thern  pot  or  pitcher,  lively  describing  C  hris- 
tian  resolution,  that  saileth  in  the  frail  bark 
of  the  flesh  through  the  waves  ot  the  world. 
But  to  speak  in  a  mean,  the  virtue  of  pros- 
perity is  temperance,  the  virtue  of  adversity 
\s  fortitude,   which   in  moral  '^  the   more 
heroical  virtue.     Prosperity  is  the  blessings 
of  the  old  Testament,  adversity  is  the  bless- 
ing of  the  New.  which  carrieth  the  greater 
benediction,   and  the   -l^^.^^^/^lf/.^""   f 
God's  favour.     Yet  even  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment,  if  you   listen   to  David  s   harp,  you 
shall  hear  as  many  herse-like  airs  as  carols; 
and  the  pencil  of  the  Holy  Ghost  hath  la- 
boured more  in  describing  the  afflictions  of 
Job  than  the  felicities  of  Solomon.     Prospe- 
rity is  not  without  many  fears  and  distastes 
and  adversity  is  not  without  comforts   and 
hopes.     We  see  in  needle-works  and  em- 
broideries,  it  is  more  pleasing  to  have  9. 


OF  SIMULATION  AND  DISSIMULATION.      31 

lively  work  upon  a  sad  and  solemn  ground, 
than  to  have  a  dark  and  melancholy  work 
upon  a  lightsome  ground:  judge,  therefore 
of  the  pleasure  of  the  heart  by  the  pleasure 
of  the  eye.  Certainly  virtue  is  like  pre- 
cious odours,  most  fragrant  where  they  are 
incensed,  or  crushed:  for  prosperity  doth 
best  discover  vice,  but  adversity  doth  best 
discover  virtue. 


VI.    OF  SIMULATION  AND  DISSIMULATION. 

Dissimulation  is  but  a  faint  kind  of  policy, 
or  wisdom;  for  it  asketh  a  strong  wit  and  a 
strong  heart  to  know  when  to  tell  truth, 
and  to  do  it:  therefore  it  is  the  weaker  sort 
of  politicians  that  are  the  greatest  dissem- 
blers. 

Tacitus  saith,  "Livic\  sorted  well  with  the 
arts  of  her  husband,  and  dissimulatioi|j^f  her 
son;  attributing  arts  or  policy  to  Augustus, 
and  dissimulation  to  Tiberius:"  and  again, 
when  Mucianus  encourageth  Vespasian  to 
take  arms  against  Vitellius,  he  saith,  "We 
rise  not  against  the  piercing  judgment  of 
Augustus,  nor  the  extreme  caution  or  close- 
ness of  Tiberius:"  these  properties  of  arts 
or  policy,  and  dissimulation  and  closeness, 


32  LORD  bacon's  ES3AY3. 

are  indeed  habits  and  faculties  several,  and 
to  be  distinguished;  for  if  a  man  have  that 
penetration  of  judgment  as  he  can  discern 
what  things  are  to  be  laid  open,  and  what  to 
be  secreted,    and   what  to   be    shewed   at 
half  lights,  and  to  whom  and  when  (which 
indeed  are  arts  of  state,   and  arts   ot  life, 
as   Tacitus   well  calleth   them),  to    him  a 
habit  of  dissimulation  is  a  hinderance  and 
a   poorness.      But    if  a   man  cannot   attain 
to  that  judgment,  then  it  is  left  to  him  gene- 
rally to  be  close,  and  a  dissembler;  for  where 
a  man  cannot  choose  or  vary  in  particulars, 
there  it  is  good  to  take  the  safest  and  wariest 
way  in  general,  like  the  going  softly  by  one 
that  cannot  well  see.     Certainly  the  ablest 
men  that  ever  were,  have  had  all  an  open- 
ness and  frankness  of  dealing,  and  a  name  ot 
certainty  and  veracity,  but  then  they  were 
like  horses  well  managed,  for  they  could  tell 
passiiig  well  when  to  stop  or  turn;  and  at 
such  times  when  they  thought  the  case  in- 
deed required  dissimulation,   if  then  they 
used  it,  it  came  to  pass  that  the  former  opin- 
ion spread  abroad,  of  their  good  faith  and 
clearness  of  dealing,  made  them  almost  invi- 
sible. ^  , .  .  •  J-  J 
There  be  three  degrees  of  this  hiding  and 
veilin-  of  a  man's  self;  the  first,  closeness, 
reservation,  and  secresy,  when  a  man  leav- 


OF  SIMULATION  AND  DISSIMULATtON.      33 

eth  himself  without  observation,  or  without 
hold  to  be  taken,  what  he  is;  the  second 
dissimulation  in  the  negative,  when  a  man 
lets  fall  signs  and  arguments,  that  he  is  not 
that  he  is;  and  the  third,  simulation  in  the 
affirmative,  when  a  man  industriously  and 
expressly  feigns  and  pretends  to  be  that  he 
is  not. 

For  the  first  of  these,  secresy,  it  is  indeed 
the  virtue  of  a  confessor;  and  assuredly  the 
secret  man  heareth  many  confessions,  for 
who  will  open  himself  to  a  blab  or  a  bab- 
bler ?  But  if  a  man  be  thought  secret,  it  in- 
vitetji  discovery,  as  the  more  close  air 
sucketh  in  the  more  open;  and,  as  in  con- 
fessing, the  revealing  is  not  for  worldly  use, 
but  for  the  ease  of  a  man's  heart,  so  secret 
men  come  to  the  knowledge  of  many  things 
in  that  kind;  while  men  rather  discharge 
their  minds  than  impart  their  minds.  In 
few  words,  mysteries  are  due  to  secresy. 
Besides  (to  say  truth)  nakedness  is  uncome- 
ly, as  well  in  mind  as  in  body;  and  it  addeth 
no  small  reverence  to  men's  manners  and 
actions,  if  they  be  not  altogether  open.  As 
for  talkers,  and  futile  persons,  they  are  com- 
monly vain  and  credulous  withal:  foi^  he 
that  talketh  what  he  knoweth,  will  also  talk 
what  he  kpQweth  not;  therefore  eetitdown, 


34  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

that  a  habit  of  secresy  is  both  politic  and 
moral:  and  in  this  part  it  is  good,  that  a 
man's  face  give  his  tongue  leave  to  speak; 
for  the  discovery  of  a  man's  self,  by  the 
tracts  of  his  countenance,  is  a  great  weak- 
ness, and  betraying,  by  how  much  it  is  many 
times  more  marked  and  believed  than  a 
man's  words. 

For  the  second,  which  is  dissimulation,  it 
followeth  many  times  upon  secresy  by  a  ne- 
cessity; so  that  he  that  will  be  secret,  must  be 
a  dissembler  in  some  degree:  for  men  are  U)0 
cunning  to  suffer  a  man  to  keep  an  indifle- 
rent  carriage  between  both,  and  to  be  secret, 
without  swaving  the  balance  on  either  side. 
They  will  so  beset  a  man  with  questions, 
and  draw  him  on,  and  pick  it  out  of  him, 
that,  without  an  absurd  silence,  he  must 
shew  an  inclination  one  way;  or  if  he  do  not, 
they  will  gather  as  much  by  his  silence  as 
by  his  speech.  As  for  equivocations,  or 
oraculous  speeches,  they  cannot  hold  out 
long.  So  that  no  man  can  be  secret,  except 
he  give  himself  a  little  scope  of  dissimula- 
tion, which  is,  as  it  were,  but  the  skirts,  or 
train  of  secresy.  . 

But  for  the  third  degree,  which  is  simula- 
tion and  false  profession,  that  I  hold  more 
culpable,  and  less  politic,  except  it  be  m 


OF  SIMULATION  AND  DISSIMULATION.      35 

great  and  rare  matters:  and,  therefore,  a  ge- 
neral custom  of  simulation  (which  is  this  last 
degree),  is  a  vice  rising  either  of  a  natural 
falseness,  or  fearfulness,  or  of  a.  mind  that 
hath  some  main  faults;  which,  because  a 
man  must  needs  disguise,  it  maketh  him 
practise  simulation  in  other  things,  lest  his 
hand  should  be  out  of  use. 

The  advantages  of  simulation  and  dissimu- 
lation are  three:  first,  to  lay  asleep  opposi- 
tion, and  to  surprise;  for  where  a  man's 
intentions  are  published,  it  is  an  alarm  to 
call  up  all  that  are  against  them:  the  second 
is,  to  reserve  to  a  man's  self  a  fair  retreat; 
for  if  a  man  engage  himself  by  a  manifest 
declaration,  he  must  go  through,  or  take  a 
fail:  the  third  is,  the  better  to  discover  the 
mind  of  another;  for  to  him  that  opens  him- 
self men  will  hardly  shew  themselves  averse; 
but  will  (fair)  let  him  go  on,  and  turn  their 
freedom  of  speech  to  freedom  of  thought; 
and  therefore  it  is  a  good  shrewd  proverb  of 
the  Spaniard,  "Tell  a  lie  and  find  a  truth;" 
as  if  there  were  no  way  of  discovery  but  by 
simulation.  There  be  also  three  disadvan- 
gestosetit  even;  the  first,  that  simulation  and 
dissimulation  commonly  carry  with  them  a 
shew  of  fearfulness,  which,  in  any  business, 
doth  spoil  the  feathers  of  round  flyingupto  th*> 


^  JLORD  bacon's  essays. 

mark;  the  second,  that  it  puzzleth  and  per- 
plexeth  the  conceits  of  mriny,  that,  perhaps, 
would  otherwise  co-operate  with  hiin,  and 
makes  a  miin  walk  almost  alone  to  his  own 
ends;  the  third,  and  greatest,  is,  that  it  depriv- 
eth  a  man  of  one  of  the  most  principal  instru- 
ments for  action,  which  is  tr*ist  and  belief. 
The  best  composition  and  temperature  is,  to 
have  openness  in  fame  and  opinion;  secresy 
in  habit;  dissimulation  in  seasonable  use;  and 
9  power  to  feign,  if  there  be  no  remedy. 


VII.    OF  PARENTS  AND  CHILDREN. 

The  joys  of  parents  are  secret,  and  so  are 
their  griefs  and  fears;  they  cannot  utter  the 
one,  nor  they  will  not  utter  the  other. 
Children  sweeten  labour?,  but  they  make 
misfortunes  more  bitter;  they  increase  the 
cares  of  life,  but  they  mitigate  the  remem- 
brance of  death.  The  perpetuity  by  gene- 
ration is  common  to  beasts;  but  memory, 
merit,  and  noble  works,  are  proper  to  men: 
and  surely  a  man  shall  see  the  noblest  works 
and  foundations  have  proceeded  from  child- 
less men,  which  have  sought  to  express  the 
images  of  their  minds,  where  those  of  their 
bodies  have' failed;  so  the  care  of  posterity 


OP  PARENTS  AND  ChlLDREN.      37 

is  most  in  them  that  have  no  posterity. 
They  that  are  the  first  raisers  of  their  houses 
are  most  indulgent  towards  their  children, 
beholding  them  as  the  continuance,  not  only 
of  their  kind,  but  of  their  work;  and  so  both 
children  and  creatures. 

The  ditFerence  in  affection  of  parents  to- 
wards their  several  children,  is  many  times 
unequal,  and  sometimes  unworthy,  espe- 
cially in  the  mother;  as  Solomon  saith, 
•'  A  wise  son  rejoiceth  the  father,  but  an  un- 
gracious son  shames  the  mother."  A  man 
shall  see,  where  there  is  a  house  full  oi 
children,  one  or  two  of  the  eldest  respected, 
and  the  youngest  made  wantons;  but  in  the 
midst  some  that  are  as  it  were  forgotten, 
who,  many  times,  nevertheless,  prove  the 
best.  The  iUiberality  of  parents,  in  allow- 
ance towards  their  children,  is  an  harmful 
error,  and  makes  them  base;  acquaints  them 
with  shifts;  makes  them  sort  with  mean 
company;  and  makes  them  surfeit  more 
when  they  come  to  plenty,  and' therefore 
the  proof  is  best  when  men  keep  their  au- 
thority towards  their  children,  but  not  their 
purse.  Men  have  a  foolish  manner  (both 
parents,  and  schoolmasters,  and  servants), 
in  creating  and  breeding  an  emulation  be- 
tween   brothers    during   childhood,    which 


38  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

many  times  sorteth  to  discord  when  tliey  are 
men,  and  disturbeth  families.  The  Italians 
make  little  difference  between  children  and 
nephews,  or  near  kinsfolks;  but  so  they  be 
of  the  lump  they  care  not,  though  they  pass 
not  through  their  own  body;  and,  to  say 
truth,  in  nature  it  is  much  a  like  matter;  in- 
somuch that  we  see  a  nephew  sometmies  re- 
sembleth  an  uncle,  or  a  kinsman,  more  than 
his  own  parents,  as  the  blood  happens.  Let 
parents  choose  betimes  the  vocations  and 
courses  they  mean  their  children  should 
take,  for  then  they  are  most  flexible;  and  let 
them  not  too  much  apply  themselves  to  the 
disposition  of  their  children,  as  thinking  they 
will  take  best  to  that  which  they  have  most 
mind  to.  It  is  true,  that  if  the  affection,  or 
aptness,  of  the  children  be  extraordinary, 
then  it  is  good  not  to  cross  it;  but  generally 
the  precept  is  good,  "  optimum  elige,  suave 
et  facile  illud  faciet  consuetude."  Younger 
brothers  are  commonly  fortunate,  but  sel- 
dom or  never  where  the  elder  are  disinhe- 
rited. 

Vni.        OF    MARRIAGE    AND    SINGLE    LIFE, 

He  that  hath  wife  and  children  hath  given 
hostages  to  fortune;  for  they  are  impedi- 


OF    MARRIAGE    AND    SINGLE    LIFE.  39 

ments'to  great  enterprises,  either  of  virtue 
or  mischief.  Certainly  the  best  works,  and 
of  greatest  merit  for  the  public,  have  pro- 
ceeded from  the  unmarried  or  childless  men; 
which,  both  in  affection  and  means,  have 
married  and  endowed  the  public.  Yet  it 
were  great  reason  that  those  that  have 
children  should  have  greatest  care  of  future 
times,  unto  which  they  know  they  must  trans- 
mit their  dearest  pledges.  Some  there  are, 
who,  though  they  lead  a  single  life,  yet 
their  thoughts  do  end  with  themselves,  and 
account  future  times  impertinences;  nay, 
there  are  some  other  that  account  wife  and 
children  but  as  bills  of  charges:  nay  more, 
there  are  some  foolish  rich  covetous  men, 
that  take  a  pride  in  having  no  children,  be- 
cause they  may  be  thought  so  much  the 
richer;  for,  perhaps,  they  have  heard  some 
talk,  "Such  an  one, is  a  great  rich  man," 
and  another  except  to  it,  "  Yea,  but  he  hath 
a  great  charge  of  children;"  as  if  it  were  an 
abatement  to  his  riches:  but  the  most  ordi- 
nary cause  of  a  single  life  is  liberty,  espe- 
cially in  certain  self-pleasing  and  humorous 
minds,  which  are  so  sensible  of  every  re- 
straint, as  they  will  go  near  to  think  their 
girdles  and  garters  to  be  bonds  and  shackles. 
Hnmarried  men  are  best  friends,  best  mas- 


^^^^ 


40  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

ters,  best  servants;  but  not  always  best  sub- 
jects; for  they  are  light  to  run  away;  and 
almost  all  fugitives    are   of  that    condition. 
A  single  life  doth  well  with  churchmen,  for 
chariry  will  hardly  water  the  ground  where 
it  must  first  fill  a  pool.     It  is  indifferent  for 
judges  and  magistrates;  for  if  they  be  facile 
and  corrupt,  you  shall  have  a  servant  five 
times   worse   than    a    wife.     For    soldiers, 
I  find  the  generals  commonly,  in  their  hor- 
tatives,  put  men  in  mind  of  their  wives  and 
children;  and  1  think  the  despising  of  mar- 
riage among  the  Turks  maketh  the  vulgar 
soldier  more  base.     Certainly  wife  and  chil- 
dren are  a  kind  of  discipline  ot  humanity; 
and  single  men,  though  they  may  be  many 
times  more  charitable,  because  their  means 
are  less  exhaust,   yet,  on  the  other  side, 
they  are  more  cruel  and  hardhearted  (good 
to  make  severe  inquisitors),  because  their 
tenderness  is  not  so  oft  called  upon.     Grave 
natures,  led  by  custom,  and  therefore  con- 
stant, are  commonly  loving  husbands,  as  was 
said   of  Ulysses,   "vetulam   suam   praetulit 
immortalitati."      Chaste   women   are   oiten 
proud  and  froward,  as  presuming  upon  the 
merit  of  their  chastity.     It  is  one  of  the 
be-'t  bonds,  both  of  chastity  and  obedience, 
in  the  wife,  if  she  thiak  her  husband  wise; 


OP    ENVY.  41 

wliich  she  will  never  do  if  she  find  him 
jealous.  Wives  are  young  men's  mistresses, 
companions  for  middle  age,  and  old  men's 
nurses;  so  as  a  man  may  have  a  quarrel  to 
marry  when  he  will:  but  yet  he  was  reputed 
one  of  the  wise  men,  that  made  answer  to 
the  question  when  a  man  should  marry: — 
"  A  young  man  not  yet,  an  elder  man  not  at 
all."  It  is  often  seen,  that  bad  husbands 
have  very  good  wives;  whether  it  be  that  it 
raiseth  the  price  of  their  husband's  kind- 
ness when  it  comes,  or  that  the  wives  take 
a  pride  in  their  patience;  but  this  never 
fails,  if  the  bad  husbands  were  of  their  owa 
choosing,  against  their  friends'  consent,  for 
then  they  will  be  sure  to  make  good  their 
own  folly. 


IX.       OF    ENVY. 

There  be  none  of  the  affections  which  have 
been  noted  to  fascinate,  or  bewitch,  but 
love  and  envy:  they  both  have  vehement 
wishes;  they  frame  tbemsehes  readily  into 
imaginations  and  suggestions;  and  they  come 
easily  into  the  eye,  especially  upon  the  pre- 
sence of  the  objects,  which  are  the  points 
that  conduce  to  fascination,  if  any  such  thing 


42  LORD    bacon's    ESSAYS. 

there  be.     We  see,  likewise,  the  scripture 
calleth  envy,  an  evil  eye;  and  the  astrologers 
ra      the   evil  inHuences    of  the  stars,  evil 
Spect-  so  that  still  there  seeineth  to  be 
Snowled^ed,  in  the  act  of  envy,  an  ejacu- 
lation,  or  irradiation  of  the  eye:  nay   some 
have  been  so  corious  as  to  note,  that  the 
times,  «hen  the  stroke  or  percussion  of  an 
envious  eye  doth  most  hurt,  are,  when  the 
party  envied  is  beheld  in  glory  or  triumph, 
for  that  sets  an  edge  upon  envy:  and  beside., 
a^  such  times,  the  spirits  of  the  person  en- 
'led  do  come  forth  most  into  the  outward 
parts,  and  so  meet  the  blow. 
^"iut  leaving  these  curiosities  (though  not 
unworthy  to  be  thought  on  in  fit  place),  we 
wiU  handle  what  persons   are   apt  to  envy 
Others;  what  persons  are  most  subject  to  be 
envied  themselves;  and  what  is  the  differ- 
ence between  public  and  private  envy. 

A  man  that  hath  no  virtue  m  h.«»«elf.  ever 
envieth  virtue  in  others;  for  men  s  minds 
^vill  either  feed  upon  their  own  good,  or 
^pon  others  evil;  and  who  wanteth  the  one 
^^11  prey  upon  the  other;  and  whoso  =,  out 
Tf  hope  to  attain  another's  virtue,  will  seek 
?o  come  at  even  hand,  by  depressing  an- 
other's fortune. 


.OP    ENVY.  43 

A  man  that  is  busy  and  inquisitive  is  com- 
monly envious;  for  to  know  much  of  "Other 
men's  matters  cannot  be,  because  all  that 
ado  may  concern  his  own  estate;  therefore 
it  must  needs  be,  that  he  taketh  a  kind  of 
play-pleasure  in  looking  upon  the  fortunes 
of  others;  neither  can  he  that  mindeth  but 
his  own  business  find  much  matter  for  envy; 
for  envy  is  a  gadding  passion,  and  walketh 
the  streets,  and  doth  not  keep  home.  "  Non 
est  curiosus,  quin  idem  sit  malevolus." 

Men  of  noble  birth  are  noted  to  be  en- 
vious towards  new  men  when  they  rise; 
for  the  dist;Mice  is  altered;  and  it  is  like  a 
deceit  of  the  eye,  that  when  others  come  on, 
they  think  themselves  go  back. 

Deformed  persons  and  eunuchs,  and  old 
men,  and  bastards,  are  envious:  for  he  that 
cannot  possibly  mend  his  own  case,  will  do 
what  he  can  to  impair  another's;  except 
these  defects  light  upon  a  very  brave  and 
heroical  nature,  which  thinketh  to  make  his 
natural  wants  part  of  his  honour;  in  that  it 
should  be  said,  '"  That  an  eunuch,  or  a  lame 
man,  did  such  great  matters;"  affecting  the 
honour  of  a  miracle:  as  it  was  in  Narses  the 
eunuch,  and  Agesilaus  and  Tamerlane,  that 
were  lame  men. 


44  LORD  bacon's  bssats. 

The  same  is  the  case  of  men  who  rtse 
after  calamities  and  misfortunes;  for  they 
are  as  men  fallen  out  with  the  times,  and 
think  other  men's  harms  a  redemption  of 
their  own  sufferings. 

They  that  desire  to  excel  in  too  many 
matters,  out  of  levity  and  vain  glory,  are 
ever  envious,  for  they  cannot  want  work; 
it  being  impossible,  but  many,  in  some  one 
of  those  things,  should  surpass  them;  which 
was  the  character  of  Adrian  the  emperor, 
that  mortally  envied  poets  and  painters,  and 
artificers  in  works,  wherein  be  had  a  vein 
to  excel. 

Lastly,  near  kinsfolks  and  fellows  in  office, 
and  those  that  are  bred  together,  are  more 
apt  to  envy  their  equals  when  they  are 
raised;  for  it  doth  upbraid  unto  them  their 
own  fortunes,  and  pointeth  at  them,  and 
Cometh  oftener  into  their  remembrance, 
and  incorreth  likewise  more  into  the  note 
of  others;  and  envy  ever  redoubleth  from 
speech  and  fame.  Cain's  envy  was  the 
more  vile  and  malignant  towards  his  brother 
Abel,  because,  when  his  sacrifice  was  better 
accepted,  there  was  no  body  to  look  on. 
Thus  much  for  those  that  are  apt  to  envy. 

Concerning  those  that  are  more  or  less 
subject  to  envy.     First,  persons  of  eminent 


OF  EN'vy.  46 

virtue,  when  they  are  advanced,  are  less 
envied;  for  their  fortune  seemeth  but  due 
nnto  them;  and  no  man  envieth  the  payment 
of  a  debt,  but  rewards  and  libarality  rather. 
A^ain,  envy  is  ever  joined  with  the  compar- 
iiii^  of  a  man's  self;  and  where  there  is  no 
comparison,  no  envy;  and  therefore  kings 
are  not  envied  but  by  kings.  Nevertheless, 
it  is  to  be  noted,  that  unworthy  persons  are 
most  envied  at  their  first  coming  in,  and 
afterwards  overcome  it  better;  whereas, 
contrariwise,  persons  of  worth  and  merit  are 
most  envied  when  their  fortune  continueth 
long;  for  by  that  time,  though  their  virtue 
be  the  same,  yet  it  hath  not  the  same  lustre, 
for  fresh  men  grow  up  to  darken  it. 

Persons  of  noble  blood  are  less  envied  in 
their  rising;  for  it  seemeth  but  right  done  to 
their  birth:  besides,  there  seemeth  not  much 
added  to  their  fortune;  and  envy  is  as  the 
sunbeams,  that  beat  hotter  upon  a  bank,  or 
steep  rising  ground,  than  upon  a  tlat;  and, 
for  the  same  reason,  those  that  are  advanced 
by  degrees  are  less  envied  than  those  that 
are  advanced  suddenly,  and  "  per  saltum."" 

Those  that  have  joined  with  their  honour 
great  travels,  cares,  or  perils,  are  less  sub- 
ject to  envy;  for  men  think  that  they  earn 
their-honours   hardly,  and  pity  them  some- 

VOL.    V.  4 


46  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

times;  and  pity  ever  healeth  envy:  where- 
fore you  shall  observe,  that  the  more  deep 
and  sober  sort  of  politic  persons    in  their 
oreutness,  are  ever  bemoaning  themselves  . 
what  a  life   they  lead,   chanting  a  "quanta 
patimur;"  not  that  they  feel  it  so,  but  only 
to  abate  the  edge  of  envy:   but  this  is  to  be 
understood  of  business  that  is  laid  upon  men, 
and  not  such  as  they  call  unto  themselves; 
for   nothing  increaseth  envy  more  than  an 
unnecessary    and    ambitious    engrossing   ot 
business;  and  nothing  doth  extinguish  envy 
more  than  for  a  great  person  to  preserve  all 
other  inferior  officers  in  their  full  rights  and 
pre-eminences  of  their  places;  for,  by  that 
means,  there  be  so  many  screens   between 
him  ajnd  envy. 

Above  all,  those  are  most  subject  to  envy, 
which  carry  the  greatness  of  their  fortunes 
in  an  insolent  and  proud  manner:  being 
never  well  but  while  they  are  showing  how 
great  they  are,  either  by  outward  pomp,  or 
bv  triumphing  over  all  opposition  or  com- 
petition: whereas  wise  men  will  rather  do 
sacrifice  to  envy,  in  suffering  themselves, 
sometimes  of  purpose,  to  be  crossed  and 
overborne  in  things  that  do  not  much  con- 
cern them.  Notwithstanding  so  much  is 
true,  that  the  carriage   of  greatness   m   a 


OF    ENVY,  47 

plain  and  open  manner  (so  it  be  without  ar- 
rogancy  and  vain  glory),  doth  draw  less 
envy  than  if  it  be  in  a  more  crafty  and  cun- 
ning fashion;  for  in  that  course  a  man  doth 
but  disavow  fortune^  and  seemeth  to  be  con- 
scious of  his  own  want  in  worth,  and  doth 
but  teach  others  to  envy  him. 

Lastly,  to  conclude  this  part,  as  we  said 
in  the  beginning  that  the  act  of  envy  had 
somewhat  in  it  of  witchcraft,  so  there  is  no 
other  cure  of  envy  but  the  cure  of  witch- 
craft; and-that  is,  to  remove  the  lot  (as  they 
call  it),  and  to  lay  it  upon  another;  for  which 
purpose,  the  wiser  sort  of  great  persons 
bring  in  ever  upon  the  stage  somebody  upon 
whom  to  derive  the  envy  that  would  come 
upon  themselves;  sometimes  upon  ministers 
and  servants,  sometimes  upon  colleagues  and 
associates,  and  the  like;  and,  for  that  turn, 
there  are  never  wanting  some  persons  of 
violent  and  undertaking  natures,  who,  so 
they  may  have  power  and  business,  will 
take  it  at  any  cost. 

Now,  to  speak  of  public  envy:  there  is 
yet  some  good  in  public  envy,  whereas  in 
private  there  is  none;  for  public  envy  is  as 
an  ostracism,  that  eclipseth  men  when  they 
grow  too  great:  and  therefore  it  is  a  bridle 
also  to  great  ones  to  keep  within  bounds. 


ill 


48  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

This  envy,  being  in  the  Latin  word  "  in- 
vidia,"  goeth  in  the  modern  languages  by 
the  name  of  discontentment;  of  which  we 
shall  speak  in  handling  sedition.  It  is  a  dis- 
ease in  a  state  like  to  infection:  for  as  infec- 
tion spreadeth  upon  that  which  is  sound, 
and  tainteth  it;  so,  when  envy  is  gotten  once 
into  a  state,  it  traduceth  even  the  best  ac 
tions  thereof,  and  turneth  thern  into  an  il 
odour;  and  therefore  there  is  little  won  by 
intermingling  of  plausible  actions:  for  that 
doth  argue  but  a  weakness  and  fear  of  envy, 
which  hurteth  so  much  the  more,  as  it  is 
likewise  usual  in  infections,  which,  if  you 
fear  them,  you  call  them  upon  you. 

This  public  envy  seemeth  to  bear  chiefly 
upon  principal  officers  or  ministers,  rather 
than  upon  kings  and  states  themselves.  But 
this  is  a  sure  rule,  that  if  the  envy  upon  the 
minister  be  great,  when  the  cause  of  it  in 
him  is  small;  or  if  the  envy  be  general  in  a 
manner  upon  all  the  ministers  of  an  es- 
tate, then  the  envy  (though  hidden)  is  truly 
upon  the  state  itself.  And  so  much  of  pub- 
lic envy  or  discontentment,  and  the  diffe- 
rence thereof  from  private  envy,  which  was 
handled  in  the  first  place. 

We  will  add  this  in  general,  touching  the 
affection    of  envy,  that  of   all  other  affec- 


OF    LOVE.  49 

tions  it  is  the  most  importune  and  continual; 
for  of  other  affections  there  is  occasion  given 
but  now  and  then;  and  therefore  it  was  well 
said,  "  Invidia  festos  dies  non  agit:"  for  it  is 
ever  working  upon  some  or  other.  And  it 
is  also  noted,  that  love  and  envy  do  make  a 
man  pine,  which  other  affections  do  not,  be- 
cause they  are  not  ?o  continual.  It  is  also 
the  vilest  affection,  and  the  most  deprav- 
ed; for  which  cause  it  is  the  proper  attri- 
bute of  the  devil,  who  is  called  "  The  envi- 
ous man,  that  soweth  tares  amongst  the 
wheat  by  night;"  as  it  always  cometh  to 
pass,  that  envy  worketh  subtilly,  and  in  the 
dark,  and  to  the  prejudice  of  good  things, 
such  as  is  the  wheat. 


X.     OF    LOVE, 

The  stage  is  more  beholding  to  love,  than 
the  life  of  man;  for  as  to  the  stage,  love  is 
even  matter  of  comedies,  and  now  and  then 
of  tragedies;  but  in  life  it  doth  much  mis- 
chief; sometimes  like  a  siren,  sometimes 
like  a  fury.  You  may  observe,  that  amongst 
all  the  great  and  worthy  persons  (whereof 
the  memory  reraaineth,  either  ancient  or 
recent),  there   is   not  one  that  hath  beep 


60  LORD    BACON  S    ESSAYS. 

transported   to    the    mad    degree   of   love, 
which    shews,  that  great  spirits  and    great 
business    do    keep   out   this   weak    passion. 
You  must  except,  nevertheless,  Marcus  An- 
tonius,   the   half  partner  of  tlie   empire   of 
Rome,  and  Appius   Claudius,   the   decemvir 
and  lawgiver;  whereof  the  former  was  in- 
deed a  voluptuous  man,  and  inordinate;   but 
the    latter  was    an   austere   and  wise  man: 
and  therefore  it  seems  (though  rarely),  that 
love  can  find  entrance,  not  only  into  an  open 
heart,  but  also  into  a  heart  well  fortified,  if 
watch  be  not  well  kept.     It  is  a  poor  say- 
ing of  Epicurus,  "  Satis  magnum  alter   alteri 
tbeatrum  sumus;"  as  if  man,  made  for  the 
contemplation  of  heaven,  and  all  noble  ob- 
jects, should  do  nothing  but  kneel  before  a 
little    idol,    and    make    himself    a    subject, 
though  not  of  the  mouth  (as  beasts  are),  yet 
of  the  eye,  which  was  given  him  for  higher 
purposes.     It  is  a  strange  thing  to  note  the 
excess  of  this  i>assion,  and  how  it  braves  the 
nature  and  value  of  things  by  this,   that  the 
speaking  in  a  perpetual  hyperbole,  is  comely 
in  nothing  but  in  love:   neither  is  it  merely 
in  the  phrase;  for  whereas  it  hath  been  well 
said.  "  That  the  arch  flatterer,  with  whom 
all  the  pretty  flatterers  have  intelligence,  is 
a  man's  self;"  certainly  the  lover  is  more; 


OF    LOVE.  51 

for  there  was  never  a  proud  man  thought  so 
absurdly  well  of  himself  as  the  lover  doth 
of  the  person  loved;  and  therefore  it  was 
well  said,  "  That  it  is  impossible  to  love  and 
to  be  wise."  Neither-doth  this  weakness 
appear  to  others  only,  and  not  to  the  party 
loved,  but  to  the  loved  most  of  all,  except 
the  love  be  reciprocal;  for  it  is  a  true  rule, 
that  love  is  ever  rewarded,  either  with  the 
reciprocal,  or  with  an  inward,  or  secret 
contempt;  by  how  much  more  the  men 
ought  to  beware  of  this  passion,  which 
loseth  not  only  other  things,  but  itself.  As 
for  the  other  losses,  the  poet's  relation  doth 
well  figure  them:  "  That  he  that  preferred 
Helena,  quitted  the  gifts  of  Juno  and  Pal- 
las;" for  whosoever  esteemeth  too  much  of 
amorous  affection,  quilteth  both  riches  and 
wisdom.  This  passion  hath  its  floods  in  the 
very  times  of  weakness,  which  are,  great 
prosperity  and  great  adversity,  though  this 
latter  hath  been  less  observed;  both  which 
times  kindle  love,  and  make  it  more  fer- 
vent, and  therefore  shew  it  to  be  the  child  of 
folly.  They  do  best,  who,  if  they  cannot 
but  admit  love,  yet  make  it  keep  quarter, 
and  sever  it  wholly  from  their  serious  affairs 
and  actions  of  life;  for  if  it  check  once  with 
business,  it   troubleth  men's  fortunes,  anJ 


52  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

maketh  men  that-  they  can  no  ways  be  true 
to  their  own  ends.  I  know  not  how,  but 
martial  men  are  given  to  love:  I  think  it  is, 
but  as  they  are  given  to  wine;  for  perils 
commonly  ask  to  be  paitl  in  pleasures. 
There  is  in  man's  nature  a  secret  inclina-* 
tion  and  motion  towards  love  of  others, 
which,  if  it  be  not  spent  upon  some  one  or 
a  few,  doth  naturally  spread  itself  tovrards 
many,  and  maketh  men  become  humane 
and  "^charitable,  as  it  is  seen  sometimes  in 
friars.  Nuptial  love  maketh  mankind;  friend- 
ly love  perfccteth  it;  but  wanton  love  cor- 
mpteth  and  embaseth  it. 


XI.      OF    GREAT    PLACE. 

Men  in  great  place  are  thrice  servants; 
servants  of  the  sovereign  or  state,  servants 
of  fame,  and  servants  of  business;  so  as 
they  have  no  freedom,  neither  in  their 
persons,  nor  in  their  actions,  nor  in  their 
times.  It  is  a  strange  desire  to  seek 
power  and  to  lose  liberty;  or  to  seek  power 
over  others,  and  to  lose  power  over  a 
man's  self.  The  rising  unto  place  is  labo- 
rious, and  by  pains  men  come  to  greater 
pains;  and  it  is  sometimes  base,  and  by  in- 
di!initie«  men  come  to  dignities.    The  stand- 


OP    GREAT    PLACE.  53 

ing  is  slippery,  and  the  regress  is  either  a 
downfall,  or  at  least  an  eclipse,  which  is  a 
melancholy  thing:  "  Cum  non  sis  qui  fueris, 
non  esse  cur  velis  vivere?"  Nay,  retire 
men  cannot  when  they  would,  neither  will 
they  when  it  were  reason;  but  are  impa- 
tient of  privateness  even  in  age  and  sickness, 
which  require  the  shadow;  like  old  towns- 
men, that  will  be  still  sitting  at  their  street 
door,  though  thereby  they  offer  age  to  scorn. 
Certainly  great  persona  had  need  to  borrow 
other  men's  opinions  to  think  themselves 
happy;  for  if  they  judge  by  their  own  feel- 
ing, they  cannot  find  it:  but  if  they  think 
with  themselves  what  other  men  think  of 
them,  and  that  other  men  would  fain  be  as 
they  are,  then  they  are  happy  as  it  were  by 
report,  when,  perhaps,  they  find  the  contra- 
ry within:  for  they  are  the  first  that  find 
their  own  griefs,  though  they  be  the  last  that 
find  their  own  faults.  Certainly,  men  in 
great  fortunes  are  strangers  to  themselves, 
and  while  they  are  in  the  puzzle  of  business 
they  have  no  time  to  tend  their  health  either 
of  body  or  mind:  "llli  mors  gravis  incubat, 
qui  notus  nimis  omnibus,  ignotus  moritur 
sibi."  In  place  there  is  license  to  do  good 
and  eVil;  whereof  the  latter  is  a  curse:  for 
in  evil  the  best  condition  is  not  to  will; 
the  second  not  to  can.     But  power   to  do 


^^  LORD    bacon's    essays. 

^ood   is  the    true   and  lawful  end  of  aspir- 

them)  vet  towards  men  are  little  belter  than 
good  dreams   except  they  be  put  in  act;  and 

hat  cannot  be  wUhout  power  and  plac^,    a. 

md  iTn^^  "f  con,manding  ground.  Merit 
and  good  works  .s  the  end  of  man's  motion: 
and  conscience  of  the  same  is  the  accomi 
plis  .ment  of  man's  rest:  for  if  a  man  can  be 
partaker  of  God;s  theatre,  he  shall  hkewise 
be  partaker  of  God's  rest:  "Et  conversus 
i^eus,  ut  aspiceret  opera,  quae  fecerunt  ma- 
nus  sus,  v.d.t  quod  omnia  essent  bona  ni- 
mis;     and   then    the   sabbath.     In   the    dis- 

Ji^IrS%  ^^/  ^''"^  '"*  ^^^^'•^  thee  the  best 
examples;  for  imitation  is  a  globe  of  pre- 
cept;  and  after  a  time  set  before  thee  thine 
own  example;  and  examine  thvself  strictly 
whether  thou  didst  not  best  at  first.  S 
cltrLt''  *^^  ^^^'"Ples  of  those  that  have 

toT'f     ^T''';f  '"  '"  '^^  '^"^^  PJ«^e:  not 
^  set    otr  thyself  by  taxing  the.r  memory, 
but  to  d.rect  thyself  what  to  avoid.     Reform 
^erefore,   without    bravery    or   scandal    of 
termer  times   and    persons;  but   yet   set   it 
down  to  thyself,  as  well  to  create  ^goodpre 
cedents  asto   follow  them.     Reduce  things 
to  the  first  institution,  and   observe  wherein 
and  how  they  have  degenerated;  but  yet  ask 
counsel  of  both  times;  of  the  ancient  time 


OF    GREAT    PLACE.  55 

what  is  best;  and  of  the  latter  time  what  is 
fittest.  Seek  to  make  thy  course  regular, 
that  men  may  know  beforehand  what  they 
may  expect;  but  be  not  too  positive  and  pe- 
remptory; and  express  thyself  well  when 
thou  digressest  from  thy  rule.  Preserve 
the  right  of  thy  place,  but  stir  not  questions 
of  jurisdiction;  and  rather  assume  thy  right 
in  silence  and  "de  facto,'"  than  voice  it  with 
claims  and  challenges.  Preserve  likewise 
the  rights  of  inferior  places;  and  think  it 
more  honour  to  direct  in  chief,  than  to  be 
busy  in  all.  Embrace  and  invite  helps  and 
advices  touching  the  execution  of  thy  place; 
and  do  not  drive  away  such  as  bring  thee  in- 
formation as  meddlers,  but  accept  of  them  in 
good  part.  The  vices  of  authority  are 
chiefly  four;  delays,  corruption,  roughness, 
and  facility.  For  delays,  give  easy  access; 
keep  times  appointed;  go  through  with  that 
which  is  in  hand,  and  interlace  not  business 
but  of  necessity.  For  corruption  doth  not 
only  bind  thine  own  hands  or  thy  servant's 
hands  from  taking,  but  bind  the  hands  of 
suitors  also  from  offering;  for  integrity  used 
doth  the  one;  but  integrity  professed  and 
with  a  manifest  detestation  of  bribery,  doth 
the  other;  and  avoid  not  only  the  fault,  but 
the  suspicion.     Whosoever  is  found  variable, 


'56  LORD    BACON  S    ESSAYS. 

and   changeth  manifestly    without    manifest 
cause,  givelh  suspicion  of  corruption:  there- 
fore,   always,     when    thou     changest   thine 
opinion  or  course,  profess  it  plainly,  and  de- 
clare it,  together  with  the  reasons  that  move 
thee  to  change,  and  do  not  think  to  steal   it. 
A  servant  or  a   favourite,  if  he  be    inward, 
and  no  other  apparent  cause   of  esteem,  is 
commonly  thought  but  a   by-way    to   close 
corruption.     For  roughness,  it  is  a  needless 
cause  of  discontent:  severity  breedeth  fear, 
but  roughness  breedeth  hate.  Even  reproofs 
from  authority  ought  to  be    grave,  and   not 
taunting.     As  for   facility,  it  is  worse   than 
bribery;  for  bribes  come  but  now  and  then; 
but  if  importunity  or  idle   respects   lead  a 
man,  he  shall  never  be  without;    as   Solo- 
mon  saith,  "To   respect  persons  it   is   not 
good,  for  such  a  man  will  transgress  for  a 
piece  of  bread."     It  is  most  true  that  was 
anciently   spoken,    "A    place    sheweth    the 
man;  and  it  sheweth  some  to  the  better,  and 
some  to    the    worse:"    "omnium   consensu 
capax  imperii,  nisi  imperasset,"  saith  Taci- 
tus of  Galba;    but   of   Vespasian    he    saith, 
"solus  imperantium,  Vespasianus  mutatus  in 
melius;"  though  the  one  was  meant  of  suffi- 
ciency, the  other  of  manners  and  affection. 
It  is  an  assured  sign  of  a  worthy  and  gene- 


'  OF    BOLDNESS.  57 

reus  spirit,  whom  honour  amends;-  for  ho- 
nour is,  or  should  be,  the  place  of  virtue; 
and  as  in  nature  things  move  violently  to 
their  place,  and  calmly  in  their  place,  so 
virtue  in  ambition  is  violent,  in  authority 
settled  and  calm.  All  rising  to  great  place 
is  by  a  winding  stair;  and  if  there  be  fac- 
tions, it  is  good  to  side  a  man's  self  \vhil?t 
he  is  in  the  rising,  and  to  balance  himself 
when  he  is  placed.  Use  the  memory  of 
thy  predecessor  fairly  and  tenderly;  for  if 
thoi]  dost  not,  it  is  a  debt  will  sure  be  paid 
when  thou  art  gone.  If  thou  have  col- 
leagues, respect  them;  and  rather  call  them 
when  they  look  not  for  it,  than  exclude  them 
when  they  have  reason  to  look  to  be  called. 
Be  not  too  sensible  or  too  remembering  of 
thy  place  in  conversation  and  private  an- 
swers to  suitors;  but  let  it  rather  be  said, 
"When  he  sits  in  place  he  is  another  man."' 


XII.       OF    BOLDNESS. 

It  is  a  trivial  grammar-school  text,  but  yet 
worthy  a  wise  man's  consideration.  Ques- 
tion was  asked  of  Demosthenes,  what 
was  the  chief  part  of  an  oratcfr?  he  answer- 
ed,  action:    what   next?   action:  what  next 


58  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

again?  action.     He  said  it  that  knew  it  best, 
and  had   by   nature   himself  no  advantage  in 
that'lie  commended.     A  strange  thing,  that 
that  part  of  an  orator  which  is   but  superfi- 
cial, and   rather  the    viitue    of   a   pluyer, 
should  be  placed  so  high  above  those  other 
noble  parts  of  invention,  elocution,  and  the 
rest;  nay  almost  alone,  as  if  it  were  all  in 
all.     But   the  reason  is  plain.     There  is  in 
human  nature  generally   more  of  the   fool 
than  of  the  wise;  and  therefore  those  Aicul- 
ties  by  which  the  foolish  part  of  men's  mmds 
is  taken,  are  most  potent.     Wonderful  like 
is  the  case  of  boldness  in  civil  business;  what 
first?  boldness:  what  second  and  third?  bold- 
ness.    And  yet  boldness  is  a  child  of  igno- 
rance   and  baseness,   far  inferior  to    other 
parts:  but  nevertheless,   it    doth    fascmate, 
and  bind  hand  and  foot  those  that  are  either 
shallow  in  judgment  or   weak   in  courage, 
which    are     the    greatest   part:     yea,    and 
prevaileth  with  wise    men  at  weak  times: 
therefore  we   see  it  hath   done  wonders  m 
popular  states,  but  with  senates  and  princes 
lessr  and  more,  ever  upon  the  first  entrance 
of  bold  persons  into  action,  than  soon  after; 
for  boldness   is  an   ill   keeper  of  promis-e. 
Surely,  as  there  are  mountebanks  for  the 
natural  body,  so  are  there  mountebanks  for 


OF    BOLDNESS.  59 

the  politic  body;  men  that  undertake  great 
cures,  and  perhaps  have  been  lucky  in  two 
or  three  experiments,  but  want  the  ground 
of  scicHce,  and  therefore  -cannot  hold  out: 
nay,  you  shall  see  a  bold'  fellow  many  times 
do  Mahomet's  miracle.  Mahomet  made  the 
people  believe  that  he  would  call  a  hill  to 
him,  and  from  the  top  of  it  offer  up  his 
prayers  for  the  observers  of  his  law.  The 
people  assembled:  Mahomet  called  the  hill 
to  come  to  him  again  and  again;  and  when 
the  hill  stood  still,  he  was  never  a  whit 
abashed,  but  said,  "If  the  hill  will  not  come 
to  Mahomet,  Mahomet  will  go  to  the  hill." 
So  these  men,  when  they  have  promised 
great  matters  and  failed  most  shamefijlly, 
yet  (if  they  have  the  perfection  of  boldness) 
they  will  but  slight  it  over,  and  make 
a  turn,  and  no  more  ado.  Certainly  to  men 
of  great  judgment,  bold  persons  are  sport 
to  behold;  nay,  and  to  the  vulgar  also  bold- 
ness hath  somewhat  of  the  ridiculous:  for 
if  absurdity  be  the  subject  of  laughter, 
doubt  you  not  but  great  boldness  is  seldom 
without  some  absurdity;  especially  it  is  a 
sport  to  see  when  a  bold  fellow  is  out  of 
countenance,  for  that  puts  his  face  into  a 
most  shrunken  and  wooden  posture,  as 
needs  it  must:  for  in  bashfulness  the  spirits 


60  LORD    BAC»«'S    ESSAYS. 

do  a  little  go  and  come;  but  with  bold  men, 
upon  like  occasion,  they  stand  at  a  stay;  like 
a  stale  at  chess,  where  it  is  no  mate,  but  \et 
the  game  cannot  stir:  but  tliis  last  were  titter 
for  a  satire,  than  for  a  serious  observation. 
This  is  well  to  be  weighed,  that  boldness  13 
ever  blind;  for  it  seeth  not  dangers  and  in- 
conveniences; therefore  it  is  ill  in  counsel, 
good  in  execution;  so  that  the  right  use 
of  bold  ].ersons  is,  that  they  never  com- 
mand in  ciiief,  but  be  seconds,  and  under  the 
direction  of  others:  for  in  counsel  it  is  good 
to  see  dangers,  and  in  execution  not  to  see 
them,  except  they  be  very  great. 


XIII.  OF  GOODNESS,  AND  GOODNESS  OF  NATURE. 

1  TAKE  goodness  in  this  sense,  the  affect- 
ing of  the  weal  of  men,  which  is  that  the 
Grecians  call  Philanthropia;  and  the  word 
humanity  (as  it  is  used),  is  a  little  too 
light  to  express  it.  Goodness  1  call  the 
habit,  and  goodness  of  nature  the  inclina- 
tion. This,  of  all  virtues  and  dignities  of 
the  mind,  is  the  greatest,  being  the  cha- 
racter of  the  Deity;  and  without  it  man  is 
a  hwSy,  mischievous,  wretched  thing,  no 
better  than   a  kind  of  vermin.      Goodness 


GOODNESS    OF    NATURE.  61 

answers  to    the  theological    virtue  charity, 
and  admits  no  excess  but  error.     The  de- 
sire of  power  in  excess  caused  the  angels 
to  fall;  the  desire  of  knovvledge  in  excess 
caused  man  to  fall:  but  in  charity  there  is  no 
excess,  neither  can  angel  or  man  come  in 
danger  by  it.     The  inclination  to  goodness 
is  imprinted  deeply  in  the  nature  of  man; 
insomuch,  that  if  it  issue  not  towards  men, 
it  will  take  unto  other  living  creatures;  as 
it  is  seen  in  the  Turks,  a  cruel  people,  who 
nevertheless  are  kind  to  beasts,  and  give 
alms  to  dogs  and  birds;  insomuch,  as  Busbe- 
chius  reporteth,  a  Christian  boy  in  Constan- 
tinople   had   like   to   have   been   stoned   for 
gagging  in  a  waggishness  a  long-billed  fowl. 
Errors  indeed,  in  this  virtue,  in  goodness  or 
charity,   may  be   committed.     The   Italians 
have  an  ungracious  proverb,  *'  Tanto  buon 
che  val  niente;"  "  So  good,  that  he  is  good 
for   nothing:"    and    one    of  the    doctors    of 
Italy,  Nicholas   Machiavel,    had   the  confi- 
dence   to    put  in    writing,    almost   in    plain 
terms,  "  That  the  Christian  faith  had  given 
up  good  men  in  prey  to  those  that  are  tyran- 
nical   and    unjust;''    which    he    spake,    be- 
cause,  indeed,   there    was   never    law,    or 
sect,  or  opinion  did  so  much  magnify  good. 
Qess  as  the  Christian  religion  doth:  there. 

VOL.    V.  5 


62  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

fore,  to  avoid  the  scandal,  and  the  dan- 
ger both,  it  is  good  to  take  knowledge  of 
the  errors  of  an  habit  so  excellent.  Seek 
the  good  of  other  men,  but  be  not  in  bon- 
dage to  their  faces  or  fancies;  for  that  is  but 
facility  or  softness,  which  taketh  an  honest 
mind  prisoner.  Neither  give  thou  iEsop's 
cock  a  gem,  who  would  be  better  pleased 
and  happier  if  he  had  a  barley-corn.  The 
example  of  God  teacheth  the  lesson  truly; 
"  He  sendeth  his  rain,  and  maketh  his  sun  to 
shine  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust;"  but  he 
dolh  not  rain  wealth,  nor  shine  honour  and 
virtues  upon  men  equally:  common  benefits 
are  to  be  communicated  with  all,  but  pecu- 
liar benefits  with  choice.  And  beware  how 
in  making  the  portraiture  thou  breakest  the 
pattern:  for  divinity  maketh  the  love  of  our- 
selves the  pattern;  the  love  of  our  neigh- 
bours but  the  portraiture;  "Sell  all  thou 
hast,  and  give  it  to  the  poor,  and  follow  me:" 
but  sell  not  all  thou  hast,  except  thou  come 
and  follow  me;  that  is,  except  thou  have  a 
Tocation  wherein  thou  mayest  do  as  much 
good  with  little  means  as  with  great;  for 
otherwise,  in  feeding  the  streams,  thou  dri- 
est the  fountain.  Neither  is  there  only  a 
babit  of  goodness  directed  by  right  reason; 
but  there  is  in  some  men,  even  in  nature,  a 


GOODNESS    OF    NATURE.  63 

disposition  towards  it;  as,  on  the  other  side, 
there  is  a  natural  mahgnity:  for  there  be  that 
in  their  nature   do   not   affect  the  good   of 
others.     The  lighter  sort  of  malignity  turn- 
eth  but  to  a  crossness,  or  frowardoess,  or 
aptness  to  oppose,  or  difficileness,  or  the 
like;  but  the  deeper  sort  to  envy,  and  mere 
mischief.     Such  men  in  other  men's  cala- 
mities, are,  as  it  were,  in  season,  and  are 
ever  on  the  loading  parts:  not  so  good  as  the 
dogs  that  licked  Lazarus'  sores,  but  like  flies 
that  are  still  buzzing  upon  any  thing  that  is 
raw;  misanthropi,  that  make  it  their  practice 
to  bring  men  to   the   bough,  and  yet  have 
never  a  tree  for  the  purpose  in  their  gar- 
dens, as  Timon  had:   such   dispositions  are 
the  very  errors  of  human  nature,  and  yet 
they  are  the  fittest  timber  to  make  great 
politics  of;  like  to  knee  timber,  that  is  good 
for  ships  that  are  ordained  to  be  tossed,  but 
not  for  building  houses  that  shall  stand  firm. 
The  parts  and  signs  of  goodness  are  many. 
If  a  man  be  gracious  and  courteous  to  stran- 
gers, it  shews  he  is  a  citizen  of  the  world, 
and  that  his  heart  is  no  island  cut  off  from 
other  lands,   but   a  continent  that  joins   to 
them:   if  he  be  compassionate  towards  the 
afflictions  of  others,  it  shews  that  his  heart 
is  like  the  noble  tree  that  is  wounded  itself 


64  t.OHD  bacon's  essays.     , 

when  it  gives  the  balm:  if  he  easily  pardons 
and  remits  offences,  it  shews  that  his  mind 
is  planted  above  injuries,  so  that  he  cannot 
be  shot:  if  he  be  thankful  for  small  benetits, 
it  shew*  that  he  weighs  men's  minds,  and 
not  their  trash:  but,  above  all,  if  he  have 
St  Paul's  perfection,  that  he  would  wish  to 
be  an  anathema  from  Christ,  for  the  salva- 
tion of  his  brethren,  it  shews  much  of  a 
divine  nature,  and  a  kind  of  conformity  with 
Christ  himself 


XIV.       OF    A    KINu. 

1.  A  KING  is  a  mortal  god  on  earth,  unto 
whom  the  living  God  hath  lent  his  own  name 
as  a  great  honour;  but  withal  told  him,  he 
should  die  like  a  man,  lest  he  should  be 
proud,  and  flatter  himself  that  God  hath 
with  his  name  imparted  unto  him  his  nature 
also. 

2.  Of  all  kind  of  men,  God  is  the  least 
beholding  unto  them;  for  he  doth  most  for 
them,  and  tbej  do  ordinarily  least  for  him. 

3.  A  king  that  would  not  feel  his  crown 
too  heavy  for  him,  must  wear  it  every  day; 
but  if  he  think  it  too  light,  he  knoweth  not 
of'what  metal  it  is  made. 


OF    A    KING.  66 

4.  He  must  make  religion  the  rule  of 
government,  and  not  to  balance  the  scale; 
for  he  that  casteth  in  religion  only  to  make 
the  scales  even,  his  own  weight  is  contained 
in  those  characters,  "  Mene  mene,  tekel 
upharsin,"  "  He  is  found  too  light,  his  king- 
dom shall  be  taken  from  him." 

6.  And  that  king  that  holds  not  religion 
the  best  reason  of  state,  is  void  of  all  piety 
and  justice,  the  supporters  of  a  king. 

6.  He  must  be  able  td  give  counsel  him- 
self, but  not  rely  thereupon;  for  though 
happy  events  justify  their  counsels,  yet  it  is 
better  that  the  evil  event  of  good  advice  be 
rather  imputed  to  a  subject  than  a  sovereign. 

7.  He  is  the  fountain  of  honour,  which 
should  not  run  with  a  waste  pipe,  lest  the 
courtiers  sell  the  water,  and  then  (as  papists 
say  of  their  holy  wells)  it  loses  the  virtue. 

8.  He  is  the  life  of  the  law,  not  only  as 
he  is  "  lex  loquens"  himself,  but  because  he 
animateth  the  dead  letter,  making  it  active 
towards  all  his  subjects,  "  praemio  et  pcona." 

9.  A  wise  king  must  do  less  in  altering  bis 
laws  than  he  may;  for  new  government  is 
ever  dangerous;  it  being  true  in  the  body 
pohtic,  as  in  the  corporal,  that  "  omnis 
subi^ta  immutatio  est  periculosa:"  and  though 
it  be  for  the  belter,  vet  it  is  not  without  a 


€6  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

fearful  apprehension;  for  he  that  changeth 
the  fundamental  laws  of  a  kingdom  thinketh 
there  is  no  good  title  to  a  crown  but  by  con- 
quest. 

10.  A  king  that  setteth  to  sale  seats  of  jus- 
tice, oppresseth  the  people;  for  he  teacheth 
his  judges  to  sell  justice;  and  "  pretio  parata 
pretio  venditur  justitia." 

11.  Bounty  and  magnificence  are  virtues 
very  regal,  but  a  prodigal  king  is  nearer  a 
tyrant  than  a  parsimonious;  for  store  at  home 
draweth  not  his  contemplations  abroad;  but 
want  supplietb  itself  of  what  is  next,  and 
many  tibaes  the  next  way:  a  king  herein 
must  be  wise,  and  know  what  he  may  justly 
do. 

12.  That  king  which  is  not  feared  is  not 
loved;  and  he  that  is  well  seen  io  his  craft 
roust  as  well  study  to  be  feared  as  loved; 
yet  not  loved  for  fear,  but  feared  for  love. 

lb.  Therefore,  as  he  must  always  resem- 
ble him  whose  great  narne  he  beareth,  and 
that  as  in  manifesting  the  sweet  influence 
of  his  mercy  on  the  severe  stroke  of  his 
justice  soraf^imes.  so  in  this  not  to  suffer  a 
man  of  death  to  live;  for,  besides  that  the 
land  doth  mourn,  the  restraint  of  justice 
towards  sin  doth  more  retard  the  afTertion 
of  love  than  the  extent  of  mercy  doth  io- 


or  A  KINO.  67 

flame  it;  and  sure  where  love  is  fill]  bestow- 
ed fear  is  quite  lost. 

14.  His  greatest  enemies  are  his  flatter- 
ers; for  though  they  ever  speak  on  his  side, 
yet  their  words  still  make  against  him. 

15.  The  love  which  a  king  oweth  to  a 
weal  public  should  not  be  restrained  to  any 
one  particular;  yet  that  his  more  special 
favour  do  reflect  upon  some  worthy  ones  is 
somewhat  necessary,  because  there  are  few 
of  that  capacity. 

16.  He  must  have  a  special  care  of  five 
things,  if  he  would  not  have  his  crown  to  be 
but  to  him  "  infelix  fehcilas:" 

First,  that  "simulata  sanctitas"  be  not  in 
the  church;  ,for  that  is  "  duplex  iniquitas:" 

Secondly,  that  ''  inutilis  requitas"  sit  not 
in  the  chancery:  for  that  is,  "  inepta  miseri- 
cordia:" 

Thirdly,  that  *'  ntilis  iniquitas"  keep  not 
the  exchequer:  for  that  is  "  crudele  latro- 
cinium:" 

Fourthly,  that  "  fidelis  temeritas"  be  not 
his  general;  for  that  will  bring  but  "  seram 
poenitentiam:" 

Fifthly,  that  "  infidelis  prOdentia"  be  not 
his  secretary:  for  that  \s  "  anguis  sub  viridi 
herba." 


G8  LORp  bacon's  essays. 

To  concliide;  as  he  is  of  the  greatest 
power,  so  he  is  subject  to  the  greatest  cares, 
made  the  servant  of  his  people,  or  else  be 
were  without  a  calling  at  all. 

He  then  that  honoureth  him  not  is  next 
an  atheist,  wanting  the  fear  of  God  in  his 
lieart. 


\  XV.    OF    NOBILIXy. 

We  will  speak  of  nobility  first  as  a  portion 
of  an  estate,  then  as  a  condition  of  particular 
persons.  A  monarchy,  where  there  is  no 
nobility  at  all,  is  ever  a  pure  and  absolute 
tyranny,  as  that  of  the  Turks;  for  nobility 
attempers  sovereignty,  and  draws  the  eyes 
of  the  people  somewhat  aside  from  the  line 
royal:  but  for  democracies  they  need  it  not; 
and  they  are  commonly  more  quiet,  and  less 
subject  to  sedition,  than  where  there  are 
stirps  of  nobles;  for  men's  eyes  are  upon 
the  business,  and  not  upon  the  persons;  or 
if  upon  the  persons,  it  is  for  the  business 
sake,  as  fittest,  and  not  for  llags  and  pedi- 
gree. We  see  the  Switzers  last  well,  not- 
withstanding their  diversity  of  religion  and 
of  cantons;  for  utility  is  their  bond,  and  not 
respects.     The  united  provinces  of  the  Low 


OP  NOBiLixr.  69 

Countries  id  their  government  excel;  for 
where  there  is  an  equality  the  consultations 
are  more  indifferent,  and  the  payments  and 
tributes  more  cheerful.  A  great  and  potent 
nobility  addeth  majesty  to  a  monarch,  but 
diminisheth  power;  and  putteth  life  and 
j^pirit  into  the  people,  but  presseth  their 
fortune.  It  is  well  when  nobles  are  not  too 
great  for  sovereignty  nor  for  justice;  and 
yet  maintained  in  that  height,  as  the  inso- 
lency  of  inferiors  may  be  broken  upon 
them  before  it  come  on  too  fast  upon  the 
majesty  of  kings.  A  numerous  nobility 
causeth  poverty  and  inconvenience  in  a  state, 
for  it  is  a  surcharge  of  expense;  and  besides, 
it  being  of  necessity  that  many  of  the  nobi- 
lity fall  in  time  to  be  weak  in  fortune,  it 
raaketh  a  kind  of  disproportion  between 
honour  and  means. 

As  for  nobility  in  particular  persons,  it  is 
a  reverend  thing  to  see  an  ancient  castle  or 
building  not  in  decay,  or  to  see  a  fair  timber 
tree  sound  and  perfect;  how  much  more  to 
behold  an  ancient  noble  family,  which  hath 
stood  against  the  waves  and  weathers  of  time? 
for  new  nobility  is  but  the  act  of  power,  but 
ancient  nobility  is  the  act  of  time.  Those 
that  are  first  raised  to  nobility,  are  common- 


70  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

ly  more  virtnoiJs,  but  less  innocent,  than 
their  descendants;  for  there  is  rarely  any 
rising  but  by  a  commixture  of  good  and  evil 
arts:  but  it  is  reason  the  memory  of  their 
virtues  remain  to  their  posterity,  and  their 
faults  die  with  themselves.  Nobility  of 
birth  commonly  abateth  industry;  and  he 
that  is  not  industrious,  envieth  him  that  is: 
besides,  noble  persons  cannot  go  much 
higher:  and  he  that  standeth  af  a  stay  when 
others  rise,  can  hardly  avoid  motions  of  en- 
vy. On  the  other  side,  nobility  extinguish- 
eth  the  passive  envy  from  others  towards 
them,  because  they  are  in  possession  of 
honour.  Certainly,  kings  that  have  able 
men  of  their  nobility  shall  find  ease  m  em- 
ploying them,  and  a  better  slide  into  their 
business;  for  people  naturally  bend  to  them 
as  born  in  some  sort  to  command. 


XVI.    OF  SEDITIONS   iND  TROUBLES. 

Shepherds  of  people  had  need  know  the 
calendars  of  tempests  in  state,  which  are 
commonly  greatest  when  things  grow  to 
equality;  as  natural  tempests  are  greatest 
about  the  equinortia;  and  as  there  are  cer- 
tain hollow  blasts  of  wind  and  secret  swel- 


OF  SEDITIONS  AND  TROUBLES.  71 

lings  of  seas,  beiore  a  tempest,  so  are  there 
in  states  : 


— — — —  "  Die  etiam  eteMs  instare  tomultus 
Saepe  mouet,  fraudesque  et  catena  tumeicen;  bella." 

Libels  and  lioentious  discourses  against  the 
stale,  when  they  are  frequent  and  open; 
and  in  like  sort  false  news  often  running  up 
and  dovvn,  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  state, 
and  hastily  embraced,  are  amongst  the  signs 
of  troubles.  Virgil,  giving  the  pedigree  of 
Fame,  saith  she  was  sister  to  the  giants: 

"  Illam  Terra  pareiM,  ira  irritata  Dtonim, 
EstKmam  (iit  pertiibent)  Coo  Enceladoque  aonneta 
Progoiuit."  JEneid.  IV-  177. 

As  if  fame  were  the  relics  of  seditions  past; 
but  thfey  are  no  less  indeed  the  preludes  of 
seditions  to  come.  Howsoever  he  noteth  it 
right  that  seditious  tumults  and  seditious 
fames  differ  no  more  but  as  brother  and 
sister,  masculine  and  feminine;  especially  if 
it  come  to  that,  that  the  best  actions  of  a 
state,  and  the  most  plausible,  and  which 
ouglit  to  give  greatest  contentment,  are 
taken  in  ill  sense,  and  traduced:  for  that 
sho^*s  the  envy  great,  as  Tacitus  saith, 
"conflata,    magna    iuvidia,    seu  bene,  sea 


72  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

male,  gesta  premunt."  Neither  doth  it  fol- 
low, that  because  these  fames  are  a  sign  of 
troubles,  that  the  suppressing  of  them  with 
too  much  severity  should  be  a  remedy  of 
troubles ;  for  the  despising  of  them  many 
times  checks  them  best,  and  the  going  about 
to  stop  them  doth  but  make  a  wonder  long 
lived.  Also  that  kind  of  obedience,  which 
Tacitus  speaketh  of,  is  to  be  held  suspected: 
"Erant  in  officio,  sed  tamen  qui  mallent 
mandata  imperantium  interpretari,  quam  ex- 
equi;"  disputing,  excusing,  cavilling  upon 
mandates  and  directions,  is  a  kind  of  shaking 
off  the  yoke,  and  assay  of  disobedience; 
especially  if  in  those  disputings  they  which 
are  for  the  direction  speak  fearfully  and  ten- 
derly, and  those  that  are  against  it  auda- 
ciously. 

Also,  as  Machiavel  noteth  well,  when 
princes  that  ought  to  be  common  parents, 
make  themselves  as  a  party,  and  lean  to  a 
side;  it  is  as  a  boat  that  is  overthrown  by 
uneven  weight  on  the  one  side:  as  was  well 
seen  in  the  time  of  Henry  the  Third  of 
France;  for  first  himself  entered  league  for 
the  extirpation  of  the  Protestants,  and  pre- 
sently after  the  same  league  was  turned 
upon  himself;  for  when  the  authority  of 
princes  is  made  but  an  accessary  to  a  cause, 


OF  SEDITIONS  AND  TROUBLES.  73 

and  that  th'ere  be  other  bands  that  tie  faster 
than  the  band  of  sovereignty,  kings  begin  to 
be  put  almost  out  of  possession. 

Also,  when  discords,  and  quarrels,  and 
factions,  are  carried  openly  and  audaciously, 
it  is  a  sign  the  reverence  of  government  is 
lost;  for  the  motions  of  the  greatest  persons 
in  a  government  ought  to  be  as  the  motions 
of  the  planets  under  "primum  mobile,"  (ac- 
cording to  the  old  opinion,)  which  is,  that 
every  of  them  is  carried  swiftly  by  (he 
highest  motion,  and  softly  in  their  own  mo- 
tion; and,  therefore,  when  great  ones  in 
their  own  particular  motion  move  violently, 
and,  as  Tacitus  expresseth  it  well,  "liberius 
quam  ut  imperantium  meminissent,"  it  is  a 
sign  the  orbs  are  out  of  frame:  for  reverence 
is  that  wherewith  princes  are  girt  from  God, 
who  threateneth  the  dissolving  thereof;  "sol- 
vam  cingula  regum." 

So  when  any  of  the  four  pillars  of  govern- 
ment are  mainly  shaken,  or  weakened  (which 
are  religion,  justice,  counsel,  and  treasure), 
men  had  need  to  pray  for  fair  weather.  But 
let  us  pass  from  this  part  of  predictions  (cbn- 
cerning  which,  nevertheless,  more  light 
may  be  taken  from  that  which  folio weth), 
and  let  us  speak  first  of  the  materials  of  se- 
ditions, then  of  the  motives  of  them,  and 
thirdly  of  the  remedies. 


74  JLORD  bacon's  essays. 

Concerning  the  materials  of  seditions,  it  is 
a  thing  well  to  be  considered;  for  the  surest 
way  to  prevent  seditions  (if  the  times  do 
bear  it,)  is  to  take  away  the  matter  of  them; 
for  if  there  be  fuel  prepared,  it  is  hard  to 
tell  whence  the  spark  shall  come  that  shall 
set  it  on  fire.  The  matter  of  seditions  is 
of  two  kinds,  much  poverty  and  much  dis- 
contentment. It  is  certain,  so  many  over- 
thrown estates,  so  many  votes  for  troubles. 
Lucan  noteth  well  the  state  of  Rome  before 
the  civil  war, 

"  Rinc  nsiira  vorax,  rapidumqne  in  tempore  foemM, 
Hiiic  coDcusaa  fides,  et  imultis  utile  bellum." 

This  same  "multis  utile  helium,"  is  an  assur- 
ed and  infallible  sign  of  a  state  disposed  to 
seditions  and  troubles;  and  if  this  poverty 
and  broken  estate  in  the  better  sort  be  join- 
ed with  a  want  and  necessity  in  the  mean 
people,  the  danger  is  imminent  and  great: 
for  the  rebellions  of  the  belly  are  the  worst. 
As  for  discontentments,  they  are  in  the  po- 
litic body  like  to  humours  in  the  natural, 
which  are  apt  to  gather  a  preternatural  heat 
and  to  inflame;  and  let  no  prince  measure 
the  danger  of  them  by  this,  whether  they  be 
just  or  unjust:  for  that  were  to  imagine  peo- 


OF  SEDITIONS  AND  TROUBLES.  75 

pie  to  be  too  reasonable,  who  do  often  spurn 
at  their  own  good;  nor  yet  by  this,  whether 
the  griefs  whereupon  they  rise  be  in  fact 
great  or  small;  for  they  are  the  most  dan- 
gerous discontentments  where  the  fear  is 
greater  than  the  feeling:  "Dolendi  modus, 
timendi  non  item:"  besides,  in  great  oppres- 
sions, the  same  things  that  provoke  the 
patience,  do  withal  mete  the  courage;  but 
in  fears  it  is  not  so:  neither  let  an}  prince, 
or  state,  be  secure  concerning  discontent- 
ments because  they  have  been  often,  or  have 
been  long,  and  yet  no  peril  hath  ensued:  for 
as  it  is  true  that  every  vapour,  or  fume, 
doth  not  turn  into  a  storm,  so  it  is  neverthe*- 
less  true,  that  storms,  though  they  blow  over 
divers  times,  yet  may  fall  at  last,  and,  as  the 
Spanish  proverb  noteth  well,  "  The  cord 
breaketh  at  the  last  by  the  weakest  pull." 

The  causes  and  motives  of  seditions  are, 
innovation  in  refigion,  taxes,  alteration  of 
laws  and  customs,  breaking  of  privileges, 
general  oppression,  advancement  of  unwor- 
thy persons,  strangers,  deaths,  disbanded  sol- 
diers, factions  grown  desperate;  and  whatso- 
ever in  offending  people  joineth  and  knitteth 
them  in  a  common  cause. 

For  the  remedies,  there  may  be  some 
general    preservatives,    whereof  we    will 


76  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

speak:  as  for  the' just  cure,  it  must  answer 
to  the  particular  disease;  and  so  be  left  to 
f:Qunsel  rather  than  role. 

The  first  remedy,  or  prevention,  is  to  re- 
move, by  all  means  possible,  that  material 
cause  of  sedition  whereof  we  speak,  which 
is,  want  and  poverty  in  the  estate;  to  which 
purpose  serveth  the  opening  and  well-ba- 
lancing of  trade;  the  cherishing  of  manufac- 
tures; the  banishing  of  idleness;  the  repress- 
ing of  waste  and  excess,  by  sumptuary  laws; 
the  improvement  and  husbanding  of  the  soil; 
the  regulating  of  prices  of  things  vendible; 
the  moderating  of  taxes  and  tributes,  and  the 
like.  Generally,  it  is  to  be  foreseen  that 
the  population  of  a  kingdom  (especially  if  it 
be  not  mown  down  by  wars),  do  not  exceed 
the  stock  of  the  kingdom  which  should  main- 
tain them:  neither  is  the  population  lo  be 
reckoned  only  by  number;  for  a  smaller 
number  that  spend  more  and  earn  less,  do 
wear  out  an  estate  sooner  than  a  greater 
number  that  live  low  and  gather  more:  there- 
fore the  multiplying  of  nobility,  and  other 
degrees  of  quality,  in  an  over-proportion  to 
the  common  people,  doth  speedily  bring  a 
state  to  necessity;  and  so  doth  likeivjse  an 
overgrown  clergy,  for  they  bring  nothing  to 
the  stock;  and  in  like  manner,  when  more 


OF  SEDITIONS  AND  TROUBLES.  77 

are  bred  scholars  than  preferments  can  take 
off. 

It  is  likewise  to  be  remembered,  that,  for- 
asmuch as  the  increase  of  any  estate  must  be 
upon  the  foreigner  (for  whatsoever  is  some- 
where gotten,  is  somewhere  lost),  there  be 
but  three  things  which  one  nation  selleth 
unto  another;  the  commodity,  as  nature 
yieldeth  it;  the  manufacture;  and  the  vec- 
ture,  or  carriage  ;  so  that,  if  these  three 
wheels  go,  wealth  will  flo»v  as  in  a  spring 
tide.  And  it  cometh  many  times  to  pass, 
that  "materiam  superabit  opus,"  that  the 
work  and  carriage  is  worth  more  than  the 
material,  and  enricheth  a  state  more,  as  is 
notably  seen  in  the  Low  Countrymen,  who 
have  the  best  mines  above  ground  in  the 
world. 

Above  all  things,  good  policy  is  to  be 
used,  that  the  treasure  and  monies  in  a  state 
be  not  gathered  into  few  hands;  for,  other- 
wise, a  state  may  have  a  great  stock,  and  yet 
starve:  and  money  is  like  muck,  no  good 
except  it  be  spread.  This  is  done  chiefly 
by  suppressing,  or,  at  the  least,  keeping  a 
strait  hand  upon  the  devouring  trades  of 
usury,  ingrossing,  great  pasturages,  and  the 
like. 

VOL.    V,  6 


78  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

For  removing  discontentments,  or,  at 
least,  the  danger  of  them,  there  is  in 
every  state  (as  we  know)  two  portions  of 
^subjects,  the  nobles  and  the  commonalty. 
When  one  of  these  is  discontent,  the  dan- 
ger is  not  great;  for  common  people  are 
of  slow  motion,  if  they  be  not  excited  by 
tlie  greater  sort;  and  the  greater  sort  are 
of  small  strength,  except  the  multitude  be 
apt  and  ready  to  move  of  themselves:  then 
is  the  danger,  when  the  greater  sort  do 
but  wait  for  the  troubling  of  the  waters 
amongst  the  meaner,  that  then  they  may 
declare  themselves.  The  poets  feign  that 
the  rest  of  the  gods  would  have  bound 
Jupiter,  which  he  hearing  of,  by  the  counsel 
of  PaUas,  sent  for  Briareus,  with  his  hun- 
dred hands,  to  come  in  to  his  aid:  an  em- 
blem, no  doubt,  to  show  how  safe  it  is  for 
monarchs  to  make  sure  of  the  good-will  of 
common  people. 

To  give  moderate  liberty  for  grief?  and 
discontentments  to  evaporate  (so  it  be  with- 
out too  great  insolency  or  bravery),  is  a  safe 
way:  for  he  that  turneth  the  humours  back, 
and  maketh  the  wound  bleed  inwards,  en- 
dangereth  malign  ulcers  and  pernicious  im- 
posthumations. 


OF    SEDITIONS    AND    TROUBLES.  79 

The  part  of  Epimetheus  might  well  be- 
come Prometheus,  in  the  case  of  discontent- 
ments, for  there  is  not  a  better  provision 
against  them.  Epimetheus,  when  griefs  and 
evils  flew  abroad,  at  last  shut  the  lid,  and 
kept  Hope  in  the  bottom  of  the  vessel.  Cer- 
tainly, the  politic  and  artificial  nourishing 
and  entertaining  of  hopes,  and  carrying 
men  from  hopes  to  hopes,  is  one  of  the  best 
antidotes  against  the  poison  of  discontent- 
ments: and  it  is  a  certain  sign  of  a  wise 
government  and  proceeding,  when  it  can 
hold  men's  hearts  by  hopes,  when  it  cannot 
by  satisfaction;  and  when  it  can  handle 
things  in  such  a  manner  as  no  evil  shall  ap- 
pear so  peremptory  but  that  it  hath  some 
outlet  of  hope:  which  is  the  less  hard  to  do; 
because  both  particular  persons  and  factions 
are  apt  enough  to  flatter  themselves,  or  at 
least  to  brave  that  which  they  believe  not. 

Also  the  foresight  and  prevention,  that 
there  be  no  likely  or  fit  head  whereunto  dis- 
contented persons  may  resort,  and  under 
whom  they  may  join,  is  a  known,  but  an 
excellent  point  of  caution.  I  understand  a 
fit  head  to  be  one  that  hath  greatness  and 
reputation,  that  hath  confidence  with  the 
discontented  party,  and  upon  whom  they 
turn  their   eyes,   and  that  is   tboaght  dis- 


80  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

contented  in  his  own  particular;  which  kind 
of  persons  are  either  to  be  won  and  re- 
conciled to  the  state,  and  that  in  a  fast 
and  true  manner;  or  to  be  fronted  with 
some  other  of  the  same  party  that  may 
oppose  them,  and  so  divide  the  reputation. 
Generally,  the  dividing  and  breaking  of  all 
factions  and  combinations  that  are  adverse 
to  the  state,  and  setting  them  at  a  dis- 
tance, or,  at  least'j  distrust  among  them- 
selves, is  not  one  of  the  worst  remiedies; 
for  it  is  a  desperate  case,  if  those  that 
hold  with  the  proceeding  of  the  state  be 
full  of  discord  and  faction,  and  those  that 
are  against  it  be  entire  and  united.. 

I  have  noted,  that  some  witty  and  sharp 
speeches,  which  have  fallen  from  princes, 
have  given  fire  to  seditions.  Caesar  did 
himself  infinite  hurt  in  that  speech,  "  Sylla 
nescivit  literas,  non  potuit  dictare;"  for  it 
did  utterly  cut  off  that  hope  which  men 
had  entertained,  that  he  would  at  one  time 
or  other  give  over  his  dictatorship.  Galba 
undid  himself  by  that  speech,  "  legi  a  se 
militem,  non  emi;"  for  it  put  soldiers 
out  of  hope  of  the  donative.  Probus,  like- 
wise, by  that  speech,  "  si  vixero,  non 
opus  erit  amplius  Romano  imperio  militi- 
bus;*'    a  speech  of  great   despair  for   the 


OF    SEDITIONS   AND    TROUBLES.  81 

soldiers,  and  many  the  like.  Surely  prin- 
ces had  need,  in  tender  matter  and  tick- 
lish times,  to  beveare  what  they  say,  es- 
pecially in  these  short  speeches,  which  fly 
abroad  like  darts,  and  are  thought  to  be 
shot  out  of  their  secret  intentions;  for  as 
for  large  discourses,  they  are  flat  Aings, 
and  not  so   much  noted. 

Lastly,  let  princes,  against  all  events,  not 
be  without  some  great  person,  one  or 
rather  more,  of  military  valour,  near  unto 
them,  for  the  repressing'  of  seditions  in 
their  beginnings;  for  without  that,  there 
useth  to  be  more  trepidation  in  court  upon 
the  first  breaking  out  of  trouble,  than  were 
fit;  and  the  state  runneth  the  danger  of 
that  which  Tacitus  saith,  "  aique  is  habi- 
tus animorum  fuit,  ut  pessimum  facinus 
auderent  pauci,  plures  vellent,  omnes  pa- 
terentur:"  but  let  such  military  persons 
be  assured,  and  well  reputed  of,  rather 
than  factious  and  popular;  holding  also 
good  correspondence  with  the  other  great 
men  in  ■  the  state,  or  else  the  remedy  is 
worse  than  the  disease. 


8^  LORD    bacon's    essays. 


XVII.      OF    ATHEISM. 

I  HAD  rather  believe  all  the  fables  in  the 
legends,  and  the  Talmud,  and  tbeAkoran, 
than  that  this  universal  frame  is  witlout  a 
mind;  and,  theiefore,  God  never  wrought 
miracles  to  convince  atheism,  because  his 
ordinary  works  convince  it.  It  is  true,  that 
a  little  philosophy  inclineth  man's  mind 
to  atheism,  but  depth  in  philosophy  bringeth 
men's  minds  about  to  religion;  for  while  the 
mind  of  man  looketh  upon  second  causes 
scattered,  it  may  sotqetimes  rest  in  them, 
and  go  no  farther;  Out  when  it  beholdeth 
the  chain  of  them  confederate,  and  linked 
together,  it  must  needs  fly  to  providence 
and  Deity:  nay,  even  that  school  which  is 
most  accused  of  atheism,  doth  most  demon- 
strate religion;  that  is,  the  school  of  Leu- 
cippus,  and  Democritus,  and  Epicurus:  for 
it  is  a  thousand  times  more  credible,  that 
four  mutable  elements  and  one  immutable 
fifth  essence,  duly  and  eternally  placed, 
need  no  God,  than  that  an  army  of  infinite 
small  portions,  or  seeds  unplaced,  should 
have  prn<hiced  this  order  and  beauty  with- 
out a  divine  marshal.  The  scripture  saith, 
"  The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart,  there  is 


OF    ATHEISM.  63 

no  God;"  it  is  not  said,  "  The  fool  hath 
thought  in  his  heart;"  so  as  he  rather  saith 
it  by  rote  to  himself  as  that  he  would  have, 
than  that  he  can  thoroughly  believe  it,  or 
be  persuaded  of  it;  for  none  deny  there  is  a 
God,  but  those  for  whom  it  maketh  that 
there  were  no  God.  It  appeareth  in  noth- 
ing more,  that  atheism  is  rather  in  the  lip 
than  in  the  heart  of  man  than  by  this,  that 
atheists  will  ever  be  talking  of  that  their 
opinion,  as  if  they  fainted  in  it  within  them- 
selves, and  would  be  glad  to  be  strengthen- 
ed by  the  opinion  of  others:  nay  more,  you 
shall  have  atheists  strive  to  get  disciples,  as 
it  fareth  with  other  seels;  and,  which  is 
most  of  all,  you  shall  have  of  them  that  will 
suffer  for  atheism,  and  not  recant;  whereas, 
if  they  did  truly  think  th  it  there  were  no 
such  thing  as  God,  why  should  they  trouble 
themselves?  Epicurus  is  charged,  that  he 
did  not  dissemble  for  his  credit's  sake,  when 
he  affirmed  there  were  blessed  natures,  but 
such  as  enjoyed  themselves  without  having 
respect  to  the  government  of  the  world; 
wherein  the}'  say  he  did  temporize,  though 
in  secret  he  thought  there  was  no  God:  but 
certainly  he  is  traduced,  for  his  words  are 
noble  and  divine:  "  Non  Deos  vulgi  negare 
profanum;  sed  vulgi  opiniones  Diis  applicaie 


84  LORD  BACOK's' ESSAYS. 

profanum."  Plato  could  have  said  no  more; 
and,  although  be  had  the  confidence  to  deny 
the  administration,  he  had  not  the  power  to 
deny  the  nature.  The  Indians  of  the  west 
have  names  for  their  particular  gods,  though 
they  have  no  name  for  God;  as  if  the  hea- 
thens should  have  had  the  names  Jupiter, 
Apollo,  Mars,  k.c.  but  not  the  word  Deus, 
which  shews,  that  even  those  barbarous 
people  hhve  the  notion,  though  they  have 
not  the  latitude  and  extent  of  it;  so  that 
against  atheists  the  very  savages  take  part 
with  the  very  snbtilest  philosophers.  The 
contemplative  atheist  is  rare,  a  Diagoras,  a 
Bion,  a  Lucian  perhaps,  and  some  others; 
and  yet  they  seem  to  be  more  than  they 
are;  for  that  all  that  impugn  a  received  re- 
ligion, or  superstition,  are,  by  the  adverse 
part,  branded  with  the  name  of  atheists:  but 
the  great  atheists  indeed  are  hypocrites, 
which  are  ever  handling  holy  things,  but 
without  feeling;  so  as  they  must  needs  be 
cauterized  in  the  end.  The  catises  of 
atheism  are,  divisions  in  religion,  if  there 
be  many;  for  any  one  main  division  addeth 
/e^l  to  both  sides,  but  many  divisions  intro- 
duce atheism:  another  is,  scandal  of  priests, 
when  it  is  come  to  that  which  St.  Bernard 
i;nth,  "  non  est  jam  dicere,  ut  populus,  sic 


OF    ATHEISM.  85 

sacerdos;  quia  nee  sic  populus,  ut  sacerdos:" 
a  third  is,  a  custom  of  profane  scoffing  in 
holy  matters,  which  doth  by  little  and  little 
deface  the  reverence  of  religion;  and,  lastly, 
learned  times,  especially  with  peace  and 
prosperity;  for  troubles  and  adversities  do 
more  bow  men's  minds  to  religion.  They 
that  deny  a  God  destroy  a  man's  nobility; 
for  certainly  man  is  of  kin  to  the  beasts  by 
liis  body;  and,  if  he  be  not  of  kin  to  God 
by  his  spirit,  he  is  a  base  and  ignoble  crea- 
ture. It  destroys  likewise  magnanimity, 
and  the  raising  humaif  nature;  for  take""an 
example  of  a  dog,  and  mark  what  a  gene- 
rosity and  courage  he  will  put  on  when  he 
linds  himself  maintained  by  a  man,  who  to 
him  is  instead  of  a  God,  or  "  melior  natura;" 
which  courage  is  manifestly  such  as  that 
creature,  without  that  confidence  of  a  better 
nature  than  his  own,  could  never  attain. 
So  man,  when  he  resteth  and  assureth  him- 
self upon  divine  protection  and  favour, 
gathereth  a  force  and  faith,  which  human 
nature  in  itself  could  not  obtain;  therefore, 
as  atheism  is  in  all  respects  hateful,  so  in 
this,  that  it  depriveth  human  nature  of  the 
means  to  exalt  itself  above  human  frailty. 
As  it  is  in  particular  persons,  so  it  is  in 
nations:  never  was  there  such  a  state  for 


86  LohD  bacon's  essays. 

maajnanimity  as  Home;  of  this  state  hear 
what  Cicero  saith,  '•  t^iiam  volumus,  licet, 
Patres  conscripti,  nos  nmemus,  taraen  nee 
niimero  Hispanos,  nee  robf>re  Gallos,  nee 
calliditate  Pcenos,  nee  artibus  Graeeos,  nee 
denique  hoc  ipso  hiijus  gentis  et  terrze  do* 
mpstico  hativoqiie  serisu  Italos  ipsos  et  La- 
tinos; sed  pietate,  ac  religione,  atque  hac 
udS.  sapientia,  quod  Deonim  iramortalium 
numine  omnia  regi,  gnbernarique  perspexi- 
mus,  omnes  gentes  nationesque  superavi- 
mus." 


XVUI.       OF    SUPERSTITION'. 

It  were  better  to  have  no  opinion  of  God  at 
all.  than  such  an  opinion  as  is  unworthy  of 
him;  for  the  one  is  unbelief,  the  other  is 
contumely:  and  certainly  superstition  is  the 
reproach  of  the  Deity  F'lutarch  saith  well 
to  that  purpose:  "Surely,"  saith  he,  "I 
had  rather  a  great  deal  men  should  say  there 
was  no  such  a  man  at  all  as  Plutarch,  than 
that  they  should  say  there  was  one  Plutarch, 
that  would  eat  his  children  as  soon  as  they 
were  born;"  as  the  poets  speak  of  Saturn: 
and,  as  the  contumely  is  greater  .towards 
God,  so  the  danger  is  greater  towards  men. 


OF    SUPERSTITION.  87 

Atheism  Idaves  a  man  to  sense,  to  philoso- 
phy, to  natural  piety,  to  laws,  to  reputation: 
all  which  mav  be  guides  to  an  outward  moral 
virtue,  though  religion  were  not;  but  super- 
stition dismounts  all  these,  and  erecteth  aa 
absolute  monarchy  in  the  fliinds  of  men: 
therefore  atheism  did  never  perturb  states; 
for  it  makes  men  wary  of  themselves,  as 
looking  no  farther,  and  we  see  the  tirjes 
inclined  to  atheism  (as  the  time  of  Augus- 
tus Caesar)  were  civil  times:  but  supersti- 
tion hath  been  the  confusion  of  many  states, 
and  bringeth  in  a  new  "  primum  mobile," 
that  ravisheth  all  the  spheres  of  government. 
The  master  of  superstition  is  the  people, 
and  in  all  superstition  wise  men  follow  fools; 
and  arguments  are  fitted  to  practice  in  a 
reversed  order.  It  was  gravely  said,  by 
some  of  the  prelates  in  the  council  oi  Trent, 
where  the  doctrine  of  the  schoolmen  bare 
great  sway,  that  the  schoolmen  were  like 
astronomers,  which  did  feign  eccentrics  and 
epicycles,  and  such  engines  of  orbs,  to  save 
the  phajnomena,  though  they  knew  there 
were  no  such  things;  and,  in  like  manner, 
that  the  schoolmen  had  framed  a  number  of 
subtile  and  intricate  axioms  and  theorems, 
to  save  the  practice  of  the  church.  The 
causes  of  superstition  are  pleasing  and  sen- 


88  LORD  bacon's  ESSATfl. 

sual  rites  and  ceremonies;  excess  of  out- 
ward and  Pharisaical  holiness;  over  great 
reverence  of  traditions,  which  cannot  but 
load  the  church;  the  stratagems  of  prelates 
for  their  own  ambition  and  lucre;  the  favour- 
ing too  much  of  good  intentions,  which 
openeth  the  gate  to  conceits  and  novelties; 
the  taking  an  aim  at  divine  matters  by 
human,  which  cannot  but  breed  mixture  of 
imaginations:  and,  lastly,  barbarous  times, 
especially  joined  with  calamities  and  disas- 
ters. Superstition,  without  a  veil,  is  a  de- 
formed thing;  for,  as  it  addeth  deformity  to 
an  ape  to  be  so  like  a  man,  so  the  similitude 
of  superstition  to  religion  makes  it  the  more 
deformed:  and,  as  wholesome  meat  corrupt- 
eth  to  little  worms,  so  good  forms  and  orders 
corrupt  into  a  number  of  petty  observances. 
There  is  a  superstition  in  avoiding  supersti- 
tion, when  men  think  to  do  best  if  they  go 
farthest  from  the  superstition  formerly  re- 
ceived; therefore  care  should  be  had  that 
(as  it  fareth  in  ill  purgings)  the  good  be  not 
taken  away  with  the  bad,  which  commonly 
rs  done  when  the  people  is  the  reformer. 


OF    TRAVEL.  89 


XIX.     6f  travel. 


Travel,  in  the  younger  sort,  is  a  part  of 
education;  in  the  elder,  a  part  of  experience. 
He  that  travelleth  into  a  country,  before  he 
hath  some  entrance  into  the  language,  goeth 
to  school,  and  not  to  travel.  That  young 
men  travel  under  some  tutor,  or  grave  ser- 
vant, I  allow  well;  so  that  he  be  such  a  one 
that  hath  the  language,  and  hath  been  in  the 
country  before;  whereby  he  may  be  able 
to  tell  them  what  things  are  worthy  to  be 
seen  in  the  country  where  they  go,  what 
acquaintances  they  are  to  seek,  what  exer- 
cises or  discipline  the  place  yieldeth;  for 
else  young  men  shall  go  hooded,  and  look 
abroad  little.  It  is  a  strange  thing  that,  in 
sea  voyages,  where  there  is  nothing  to  be 
seen  but  sky  and  sea,  men  should  make  dia- 
ries; but  in  land  travel,  wherein  so  much  is 
to  be  observed,  for  the  most  part  they  omit 
it;  as  if  chance  were  fitter  to  be  registered 
than  observation;  let  diaries  therefore,  be 
brought  in  use.  The  things  to  be  seen  and 
observed,  are  the  courts  of  princes,  espe- 
cially when  they  give  audience  to  ambassa- 
dors; the  courts  of  justice,  while  they  sit 
and  hear  causes;  and  so  of  consistories  ec- 


90  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

clesiastic;  the  churches  and  monasteries, 
with  the  monuments  which  are  therein  ex- 
tant; the  walls  and  fortifications  of  cities  and 
towns;  and  so  the  havens  and  harbours,  an- 
tiquities and  ruins,  libraries,  colleges,  dispu- 
tations, and  lectures,  where  any  are;  ship- 
ping and  navies;  houses  and  gardens  of  state 
and  pleasure,  near  great  cities;  armories, 
arsenals,  magazines,  exchanges,  burses, 
warehouses,  exercises  of  horsemanship, 
fencing,  training  of  soldiers,  and  the  like: 
comedies,  such  whereunto  the  better  sort  of 
persons  do  resort;  treasuries  of  jewels  and 
robes;  cabinets  and  rarities;  and,  to  con- 
clude, whatsoever  is  memorable  in  the  places 
where  they  go:  after  all  which  the  tutors  or 
servants  ought  to  make  diligent  inquiry. 
As  for  triumphs,  masks,  feasts,  weddings, 
funerals,  capital  executions,  and  such  shows, 
men  need  not  to  be  put  in  mind  of  them: 
yet  they  are  not  to  be  neglected.  If  you 
will  have  a  young  man  to  put  his  travel  into 
a  little  room,  and  in  short  time  to  gather 
much,  this  you  must  do:  first,  as  was  said,  he 
must  have  some  entrance  into  the  language 
before  he  goeth;  then  he  must  have  such  a 
servant,  or  tutor,  as  knoweth  the  country, 
as  was  likewise  said:  let  him  carry  with  him 
also  some   card,   or   book,   describing  the 


OF    TRAVEL.  91 

country  where  he  travelleth,  which  will  be 
a  good  key  to  his  inquiry;  let  him  keep  also 
a  diary;  let  him  not  stay  long  in  one  city  or 
town,  more  or  less  as  the  place  deserveth, 
but  not  long;  nay,  when  he  stayeth  in  one 
city  or  town,  let  him  change  his  lodging 
from  one  end  and  part  of  the  town  to  an- 
other, which  is  a  great  adamant  of  acquain- 
tance; let  him  sequester  himself  from  the 
company  of  his  countrymen,  and  diet  in  such 
places  where  there  is  good  company  of  the 
nation  where  he  travelleth:  let  him,  upon 
his  removes  from  one  place  to  another,  pro- 
cure recommendation  to  some  person  of 
quality  residing  in  the  place  whither  he  re- 
moveth,  that  he  may  use  his  favour  in  those 
things  he  desireth  to  see  or  know:  thus  he 
may  abridge  his  travel  with  much  profit. 
As  for  the  acquaintance  which  is  to  be 
sought  in  travel,  that  which  is  most  of  all 
profitable,  is  acquaintance  with  the  secreta- 
ries and  employed  men  of  ambassadors:  for 
so  in  travelling  in  one  country  he  shall  suck 
the  experience  of  many:  let  him  also  see 
and  visit  eminent  persons  in  all  kinds,  which 
are  of  great  name  abroad,  that  he  may  be 
able  to  tell  how  the  life  agreeth  with  the 
fame;  for  quarrels,  they  are  with  care  and 
discretion  to  be  avoided;  they  are  commonly 


92  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

for  mistresses,  healths,  place,  and  words: 
and  let  a  man  beware  how  he  keepeth  com- 
pany with  choleric  and  quarrelsome  persons, 
for  they  will  engage  him  into  their  own 
quarrels.  When  a  traveller  returneth  home, 
let  him  not  leave  the  countries  where  he 
hath  travelled  altogether  behind  him;  but 
maintain  a  correspondence  by  letters  with 
those  of  his  acquaintance  which  are  of  most 
worth;  and  let  his  travel  appear  rather  in 
his  discourse  than  in  his  apparel  or  gesture; 
and  in  his  discourse  let  him  be  rather  ad- 
vised in  his  answers,  than  forward  to  tell 
stories:  and  let  it  appear  that  he  doth  not 
change  his  country  manners  for  those  of 
foreign  parts;  but  only  prick  in  some  flow- 
ers of  that  he  hath  learned  abroad  into  the 
customs  of  his  own  country. 


XX.       OF    EMPIRE. 

It  is  a  miserable  state  of  mind  to  have  few 
things  to  desire,  and  many  things  to  fear; 
and  yet  that  commonly  is  the  case  with 
kings,  who  being  at  the  highest,  want  mat- 
ter of  desire,  which  makes  their  minds  more 
languishing;  and  have  many  representations 
of  perils  and  shadows,  which  make  their 


OF    EMPIRE.  93 

minds  the  less  clear:  and  this  is  one  reason 
also  of  that  effect  which  the  scripture  speak- 
eth  of,  "  That  the  king's  heart  is  inscruta- 
ble:''' for  multitude  of  jealousies,  and  lack 
of  some  predominant  desire,  that  should 
marshal  and  put  in  order  all  the  rest,  maketh 
'Any  man's  heart  hard  to  find  or  sound. 
Hence  it  comes  likewise,  that  princes  many 
times  make  themselves  desires,,  and  set  their 
hearts  upon  toys;  sometimes  upon  a  build- 
ing; sometimes  upon  erecting  of  an  order; 
sometimes  upon  the  advancing  of  a  person; 
sometimes  upon  obtaining  excellence  in  some 
art,  or  feat  of  the  hand;  as  Nero  for  playing 
on  the  harp;  Domitian  for  certainty  of  the 
hand  with  the  arrow;  Commodus  for  playing 
at  fence;  Caracalla  for  driving  chariots,  and 
the  like.  This  seemetb  incredible  unto 
those  that  know  not  the  principle,  that  the 
mind  of  man  is  more  cheered  and  refreshed 
by  protiting  in  small  things,  than  by  standing 
at  a  stay  in  great.  We  see  also  that  icings 
that  have  been  fortunate  conquerors  in  their 
first  years,  it  being  not  possible  for  them  to 
go  forward  infinitely,  but  that  they  must  have 
some  check  or  arrest  in  their  fortunes,  turn 
in  their  latter  years  to  be  superstitious  and 
melancholy;  as  did-  Alexander  the  Great, 
t)ioclesian,  and  in  our  memory  Charles  the 

VOL.    V.  7 


94  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

Fifth,  and  others:  for  he  that  is  used  to  go 
forward,  and  findeth  a  stop,  falleth  out  of 
his  own  favour,  and  is  not  the  thing  he  was. 

To  speak  now  of  the  true  temper  of  em- 
pire, it  is  a  thing  rare  and  hard  to  keep; 
for  both  temper  and  distemper  consist  of 
contraries:  but  it  is  one  thing  to  mingle  con- 
traries, another  to  interchange  them.  The 
answer  of  Apollonius  to  Vespasian  is  full  of 
excellent  instruction.  Vespasian  asked  him, 
what  was  Nero's  overthrow?  he  answered, 
Nero  could  touch  and  tune  the  harp  well, 
but  in  government  sometimes  he  used  to 
wind  the  pins  too  high,  sometimes  to  let 
them  down  too  low;  and  certain  it  is,  that 
nothing  destroyeth  authority  so  much,  as  the 
unequal  and  untimely  interchange  of  power 
pressed  too  far,  and  relaxed  too  muCh. 

This  is  true,  that  the  wisdom  of  all  these 
latter  times  in  princes'  affairs,  is  rather  fine 
deliveries,  and  shiftings  of  dangers  and  mis- 
chiefs, when  they  are  near,  than  solid  and 
grounded  courses  to  keep  them  aloof:  but 
this  is  but  to  try  masteries  with  fortune; 
and  let  men  beware  how  they  neglect  and 
suffer  matter  of  trouble  to  be  prepared;  for 
BO  man  can  forbid  the  spark,  nor  tell  whence 
It  may  come.  The  diflBculties  in  princes' 
business  are  many  aad  great;  but  the  great- 


OF    EMPIRE.  95 

est  difficulty  is  often  in  their  own  mind;  for 
it  is  common  with  princes  (saith  Tacitus)  to 
will  contradictories;  "Suntplerumque  regum 
voluntates  vehementes,  et  inter  se  contra- 
riae;"  for  it  is  the  solecism  of  power  to  think 
to  command  the  end,  and  yet  not  to  endure 
the  means. 

Kings  have  to  deal  with  their  neighbours, 
their  wives,  their  children,  their  prelates  or 
clergy,  their  nobles,  their  second  nobles  or 
gentlemen,  their  merchants,  their  commons, 
and  their  men  of  war;  and  from  all  these 
arise  dangers,  if  care  and  circumspection  be 
not  used. 

First,  for  their  neighbours,  there  can  no 
general  rule  be  given  (the  occasions  are  so 
variable),  save  one  which  ever  holdeth; 
which  is,  that  princes  do  keep  due  sentinel, 
that  none  of  their  neighbours  do  overgrow 
so,  (by  increase  of  territory,  by  embracing 
of  trade,  by  approaches,  or  the  like,)  as 
they  become  more  able  to  annoy  them  than 
they  were;  and  this  is  generally  the  work  of 
standing  counsels  to  foresee  and  to  hinder  it. 
During  that  triumvirate  of  kings,  king  Hen- 
ry the  Eighth  of  England,  Francis  the  First, 
king  of  France,  and  Charles  the  Fifth  empe- 
ror, there  was  such  a  watch  kept  that  none 
of  the  three  could  win  a  palm  of  ground. 


96  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

but  the  other  two  would  straightways  balance 
it,  either  by  confederation,  or,  if  need 
were,  by  a  war;  and  would  not  in  any  wise 
take  up  peace  at  interest:  and  the  like  was 
done  by  'that  league  (which  Guicciardine 
saith  was  the  security  of  Italy),  made  be- 
tween Ferdinando,  king  of  Naples,  Lorenzius 
Medices,  and  Ludovicus  Sforza,  potentates, 
the  one  of  Florence,  the  other  of  Milan. 
Neither  is  the  opinion  of  some  of  the  school- 
men to  be  received,  that  a  war  cannot  justly 
be  made,  but  upon  a  precedent  injury  or  pro- 
vocation; for  there  is  no  question,  but  a  just 
fear  of  an  imminent  daiiger,  though  there 
be  no  blow  given,  is  a  lawful  cause  of  a  war. 

For  their  wives,  there  are  cruel  examples 
of  them.  Livia  is  infamed  for  the  poisoning 
of  her  husband;  Roxolana,  Solyman's  wife, 
was  the  destruction  of  that  renowned  prince, 
Sultan  Mustapha,  and  otherwise  troubled  his 
house  and  succession;  Edward  the  Second 
of  England's  queen  had  the  principal  hand 
in  the  deposing  and  murder  of  her  husband. 
This  kind  of  danger  is  then  to  be  feared 
chiefly  when  the  wives  have  plots  for  the 
raising  of  their  own  children,  or  else  that 
they  be  advoutresses. 

For  their  children,  the  tragedies  likewise 
of  dangers  from  them  have  been  many;  and 


OF    EMPIRE.  97 

generally  the  enteriog  of  the  fathers  into 
suspicion  of  their  children  hath  been  ever 
unfortunate.  The  destruction  of  Mustapha 
(that  we  named  before)  was  so  fatal  to  Soly- 
man's  line,  as  the  succession  of  the  Turks 
from  Solyman  until  this  day  is  suspected  to 
be  untrue,  and  of  strange  blood;  for  that 
Selymus  the  Second  was  thought  to  be  sup- 
posititious. The  destruction  of  Crispus,  a 
young  prince  of  rare  towardness,  by  Coji>- 
stantinus  the  Great,  his  father,  was  in  like 
manner  fatal  to  his  house,  for  both  Con- 
stantinus  and  Constance,  his  sons,  died  vio' 
lent  deaths;  and  Constautius,  his  other  son, 
did  little  better,  who  died  indeed  of  sickness, 
but  after  that  Julianus  had  taken  arms  against 
him.  The  destruction  of  Demetrius,  son  to 
Philip  the  Second  of  Macedon,  turned  upon 
the  father,  who  died  of  repentance:  and 
many  like  examples  there  are,  but  few  or 
none  where  the  fathers  had  good  by  such 
distrust,  except  it  were  where  the  song 
were  in  open  arms  against  them;  as  was  Se- 
lymus the  First  against  Bajazet,  and  the 
three  sons  of  Henry  the  Second  king  of 
Engl.ind. 

For  their  prelates,  when  they  are  proud 
and  great,  there  is  also  danger  from  them; 
t^s  it  was  in  the  times  of  Anselmus  and  Tho- 


98  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

mas  Becket,  archbishops  of  Canterbury,  who 
with  their  crosiers  did  almost  try  it  with  the 
king's  sword;  and  yet  they  had  to  deal  with 
stout  and  haughty  kings,  William  Rufus, 
Henry  the  First,  and  Henry  the  Second. 
The  danger  is  not  from  that  state,  but  where 
it  hath  a  dependence  of  foreign  authority; 
or  where  the  churchmen  come  in  and  are 
elected,  not  by  the  collation  of  the  king,  or 
particular  patrons,  but  by  the  people. 

For  their  nobles,  to  keep  them  at  a  dis- 
tance it  is  not  amiss;  but  to  depress  them 
may  make  a  king  more  absolute,  but  less 
safe,  and  less  able  to  perform  any  thing  that 
he  desires,  f  have  noted  it  in  my  History* 
of  king  Henry  the  Seventh  of  England, 
who  depressed  his  nobility,  whereupon  it 
came  to  pass  that  his  times  were  full  of  dif- 
ficulties and  troubles;  for  the  nobility, 
though  they  continued  loyal  unto  him,  yet 
did  they  not  co-operate  with  him  in  his  busi- 
ness; so  that  in  effect  he  was  fain  to  do  all 
things  himself. 

For  their  second  nobles,  there  is  not 
much  danger  from  them,  being  a  body  dis- 
persed: they  may  sometimes  discourse  high, 
but  that  doth  little  hurt;  besides,  they  are  a 
counterpoise  to  the  higher  nobility,  that 
they  grow  not  too  potent;    and,  lastly,  being 


OF   EMPIRE.  99 

tbe  most  immediate  in  authority  with  the 
common  people,  they  do  best  temper  popu- 
lar commotions. 

For  their  merchants,  they  are  "vena  por- 
ta;" and  if  they  flourish  not,  a  kingdom  tnay 
have  good  limbs,  but  will  have  empty  veins, 
and  nourish  little.  Taxes  and  imposts  upon 
them  do  seldom  good  to  the  king's  revenue, 
for  that  which  he  wins  in  the  hundred,  he 
loseth  in  the  shire;  the  particular  rates  being 
increased,  but  the  total  bulk  of  trading  rather 
decreased. 

For  their  commons,  there  is  little  danger 
from  them,  except  it  be  where  they  have 
great  and  potent  heads;  or  where  you  med- 
dle with  the  point  of  religion,  or  their  cus- 
toms, or  means  of  life. 

For  their  men  of  war,  it  is  a  dangerous 
state  where  they  live  and  remain  in  a  body, 
and  are  used  to  donatives,  whereof  we  see 
examples  in  the  janizaries  and  praetorian 
bands  of  Rome;  but  trainings  of  men,  and 
arming  them  in  several  places,  and  under 
several  commanders,  and  without  donatives, 
are  things  of  defence  and  no  danger. 

Princes  are  like  to  heavenly  bodies,  which 
cause  good  or  evil  times;  and  which  have 
much  veneration,  but  no  rest.  All  precepts 
concerning  kings  are  in  effect  comprehended 


100  LORD    bacon's    essays. 

in  those  two  remembrances,  "memento  quotl 
es  homo;"  and  "memento  quod  es  Deus,  or 
▼ice  Dei;"  the  one  bridleth  their  power, 
and  the  other  their  will. 


XXI.     OF    COCNSEt. 

The  greatest  trust  between  man  and  man  is 
the  trust  of  giving  counsel;  for  in  other 
confidences  men  commit  the  parts  of  life, 
their  lands,  their  goods,  their  children,  their 
credit,  some  particular  affair;  but  to  such 
as  they  make  their  counsellors  they  commit 
the  whole:  by  how  much  the  more  they  are 
obliged  to  all  faith  and  integrity.  The 
wisest  princes  need  not  think  it  any  diminu- 
tion to  their  greatness,  or  derogation  to  their 
sufficiency^  to  rely  upon  counsel.  God  him- 
self is  not  without,  knit  hath  made  it  one  of 
the  great  names  of  his  blessed  Son,  "The 
Counsellor."  Solomon  hath  pronounced 
that,  "in  counsel  is  stability."  Things  will 
have  their  first  or  second  agitation:  if  they 
be  not  tossed  upon  the  arguments  of  coun- 
sel, they  will  be  tossed  upon  the  waves  of 
fortune;  and  be  full  of  inconstancy,  doing 
and  undoing,  like  the  reehng  of  a  drunken 
man.      Solomon's  son   found  the   force   of 


OF    COUNSEL.  101 

coansel,  as  his  father  saw  the  necessity  of  it: 
for  the  beloved  kingdom  of  God  was  first 
rent  and  broken  by  ill  counsel;  upon  which 
"counsel  there  are  set  for  our  instruction  the 
two  marks  whereby  bad  counsel  is  for  ever 
best  discerned,  that  it  was  young  counsel  for 
the  persons,  and  violent  counsel  for  the 
matter. 

The  ancient  times  do  set  forth  in  figure 
both  the  incorporation  and  inseparable  con- 
junction of  counsel  with  kings,  and  the  wise 
and  politic  use  of  counsel  by  kings:  the  one, 
in  that  they  say  Jupiter  did  marry  Metis, 
which  signitieth  counsel;  whereby  they  in- 
tend that  sovereignty  is  married  to  counsel; 
the  other  in  that  which  followeth,  which  was 
thus:  they  say,  after  Jupiter  was  married  to 
Metis,  she  conceived  by  him  and  was  with 
child,  but  Jupiter  sufiered  her  not  to  stay 
till  she  brought  forth,  but  eat  her  up; 
whereby  he  became  himself  with  child,  and 
was  delivered  of  Pallas,  armed  out  of  his 
head.  Which  monstrous  fable  containeth  a 
secret  of  empire,  how  kings  are  to  make  use 
of  their  council  of  state:  that  first,  they 
ought  to  refer  matters  unto  them,  which  is 
the  first  begetting  or  impregnation;  but 
when  they  are  elaborate,  moulded,  and 
shaped  in  the   womb  of  their  council,  and 


102  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

grow  ripe  and  ready  to  be  brought  forth, 
that  then  they  suffer  not  their  council  to  go 
through  with  the  resohition  and  direction, 
as  if  it  depended  on  them;  but  take  the 
matter  back  into  their  own  hands,  and  make 
it  appear  to  the  world,  that  the  decrees  and 
final  directions,  (which,  because  they  come 
forth  with  prudence  and  power,  are  resem- 
bled to  P'allas  armed,)  proceeded  from  them- 
selves; and  not  only  from  their  authority,  but 
(the  more  to  add  repntation  to  themselves) 
from  their  head  and  device. 

Let  us  now  speak  of  the  inconveniences 
of  counsel,  and  of  the  remedies.  The  in- 
conveniences that  have  been  noted  in  calling 
and  using  counsel,  are  three:  first,  the  re- 
-yealing  of  affairs,  whereby  they  become 
less  secret;  secondly,  the  weakening  of  the 
authority  of  princes,  as  if  tliey  were  less  of 
themselves;  thirdly,  the  danger  of  being  un- 
faithfully counselled,  and  more  for  the  good 
of  them  that  counsel,  than  of  him  that  is 
counselled;  for  which  inconveniences,  the 
doctrine  of  Italy,  and  practice  of  France  in 
some  kings'  times,  hath  introduced  cabinet 
councils;  a  remedy  worse  than   the  disease. 

As  to  secrecy,  princes  are  not  hound  to 
communicate  all  matters  with  all  counsel- 
lors, but  may  extract  and  select;  neither  is 


OF  COUNSEL^  103 

it  necessary,  that  he  that  consulteth  what  he 
should  do,  should  declare  what  he  will  do; 
but  let  princes  beware  that  the  unsecreting 
oftlieir  affairs  comes  not  from  themselves: 
and,  as  for  cabinet  councils,  it  may  be  their 
motto,  "plenus  rimarum  sum:"  one  futile 
person,  that  maketb  it  his  glory  to  tell,  will 
do  more  hurt  than  many,  that  know  it  their 
July  to  conceal.  It  is  true  there  be  some 
affairs  which  require  extreme  secrecy, 
which  will  hardly  go  beyond  one  or  two 
persons  beside  the  king:  neither  are  those 
counsels  unprosperous  ;  for,  besides  the 
secrecy,  they  commonly  go  on  constantly  in 
one  spirit  of  direction  without  distraction: 
but  then  it  must  be  a  prudent  king,  such  as 
is  able  to  grind  with  a  hand-mill;  and  those 
inward  counsellors  had  need  also  be  wise 
men,  and  especially  true  and  trusty  to  the 
king's  ends;  as  it  was  with  king  Henry  the 
Seventh  of  England,  who  in  his  greatest  bu- 
siness imparted  himself  to  none,  except  it 
were  to  Morton  and  Fox. 

For  weakness  of  authority  the  fable  shew- 
eth  the  remedy:  nay,  the  majesty  of  kings 
is  rather  exalted  than  diminished  when  they 
are  in  the  chair  of  council:  neither  was 
there  ever  prince  bereaved  of  his  depen- 
dencies by  his  council,  except  where  there 


104  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

hath  been  either  an  over-greatness  in  one 
counsellor,  or  an  OFer-strict  combination  in 
divers,  which  are  things  soon  found  and  hoi- 
pen. 

For  the  last  inconvenience,  that  men  will 
counsel  with  an  eye  to  themselves;  certainly, 
"non  inveniet  lidem  super  terram,"  is  meant 
of  the  nature  of  times,  and  not  of  all  par- 
ticular persons.  There  be  that  are  in  na- 
ture faithful  and  sincere,  and  plain  and 
direct,  not  crafty  and  involved:  let  princes, 
above  all,  draw  to  themselves  such  natures. 
Besides,  counsellors  are  not  commonly  so 
united,  but  that  one  counsellor  keepeth  sen- 
tinel over  another;  so  that  if  any  counsel 
out  of  faction  or  private  ends,  it  commonly 
comes  to  the  king's  ear:  but  the  best  reme- 
dy is,  if  princes  know  their  counsellors,  as 
well  as  their  counsellors  know  them. 

**  Pliiieipii  ett  Tirtos  inaxima  none  soot.'* 

And  on  the  other  side,  connsellors  should 
not  be  too  speculative  into  their  sovereign's 
person.  The  true  composition  of  a  coun- 
sellor is,  rather  to  be  skilful  in  their  mas- 
ter's business,  than  in  his  nature;  for  then 
he  is  like  to  advise  him,  and  not  to  feed  his 
humouj*.     It  is  of  singular  use  to  princes  if 


OF  COUNSEL.  105 

they  take  the  opinions  of  their  council  both 
separately  and  together;  for  private  opinion 
is  more  free,  but  opinion  before  others  is 
more  reverend.  In  private,  men  are  more 
bold  in  their  own  humours,  and  in  consort 
men  are  more  obnoxious  to  others  humours, 
therefore  it  is  good  to  take  both;  and  of  the 
inferior  sort  rather  in  private,  to  preserve 
freedom;  of  the  greater,  rather  in  consort, 
to  preserve  respect.  It  is  in  vain  for 
princes  to  take  counsel  concerning  matters, 
if  they  take  no  counsel  likewise  concerning 
persons;  for  all  matters  are  as  dead  images; 
and  the  life  of  the  execution  of  afiFairs  rest- 
eth  in  the  good  choice  of  persons:  neither  is 
it  enough  to  consult  concerning  persons, 
"secundum  genera,'*  as  in  an  idea  of  mathe- 
matical description,  what  the  kind  of  charac- 
ter of  the  person  should  be;  for  the  greatest 
errors  are  committed,  and  the  most  judg- 
ment is  shown,  in  the  choice  of  individuals. 
It  was  truly  said,  "optimi  consiliarii  mortui:" 
"books  will  speak  plain  when  counsellors 
blanch;"  therefore  it  is  good  to  be  conver- 
sant in  them,  specially  the  books  of  such  as 
themselves  have  been  actors  upon  the  stage. 
The  councils  at  this  day  in  most  places 
are  but  familiar  meetings,  where  matters  are 
rather  talked  on  than  debated;  and  they  run 


106  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

too  swift  to  the  order  or  act  of  council.  It 
were  better  that  in  causes  of  weight  the 
matter  were  propounded  one  day  and  not 
spoken  to  till  next  day;  "in  nocte  consi- 
lium:" so  was  it  done  in  the  commission  of 
union  between  England  and  Scotland,  which 
was  a  grave  and  orderly  assembly.  I  com- 
mend set  days  for  petitions;  for  both  it  gives 
the  suitors  more  certainty  for  their  attend- 
ance, and  it  frees  the  meetings  for  matters 
of  estate,  that  they  may  "hoc  agere."  In 
choice  of  committees  for  ripening  business 
for  the  council,  it  is  better  to  choose  indif- 
ferent persons,  than  to  make  an  indiflferency 
by  putting  in  those  that  are  strong  on  both 
sides.  I  commend,  also,  standing  commis- 
sions; as  for  trade,  for  treasure,  for  war, 
for  suits,  for  some  provinces;  for  where 
there  be  divers  particular  councils,  and  but 
one  council  of  estate,  (as  it  is  in  Spain)  they 
are,  in  effect,  no  more  than  standing  com- 
missions, save  that  they  have  greater  autho- 
rity Let  such  as  are  to  inform  councils  out 
of  their  particular  professions,  (as  lawyers, 
seamen,  mintmen,  and  the  like.)  be  first 
beard  before  committees;  and  then,  as  occa- 
sion serves,  before  the  council;  and  let  them 
not  come  in  multitudes,  or  in  a  tribunitious 
maDoer;  for  that  is  to  clamour  councils,  not 


OF  DELAYS.  107 

to  inform  them.  A  long  table  and  a  square 
table,  or  seats  about  the  walls,  seem  things 
of  Ibrm,  but  are  things  of  substance;  for  at 
a  long  table  a  few  at  the  upper  end,  in  eflfect, 
sway  all  the  business;  but  in  the  other  form 
there  is  more  use  of  the  counsellors'  opi- 
nions that  sit  lower.  A  king,  when  he  pre- 
sides in  council,  let  him  beware  how  he 
opens  his  own  inclination  too  much  in  that 
which  he  propoundeth;  for  else  counsellors 
will  but  take  the  wind  of  him,  and  instead  of 
giving  free  counsel,  will  sing  him  a  song  of 
"placebo." 


XXII.    OF  DELAYS. 

Fortune  is  like  the  market,  where  many 
times,  if  you  can  stay  a  little,  the  price  will 
fall;  and  again,  it  is  sometimes  like  Sibylla's 
offer,  which  at  first  offereth  the  commodity 
at  full,  then  consumeth  part  and  part,  and 
still  holdeth  up  the  price;  for  occasion  (as 
it  is  in  the  common  verse)  turneth  a  bad 
noddle  after  she  hath  presented  her  locks  in 
front,  and  no  hold  taken;  or,  at  least,  turn- 
eth the  handle  of  the  bottle  first  to  be 
received,  and  after  the  belly  which  is  hard 
to  clasp.     There  is  surely  no  greater  wis- 


106  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

dom  than  well  to  time  the  beginnings  and 
onsets  of  things.  Dangers  are  no  more  light, 
if  they  once  seem  light;  and  more  dangers 
have  deceived  men  than  forced  them:  nay, 
it  were  better  to  meet  some  dangers  half 
way,  though  they  come  nothing  near,  than 
to  keep  too  long  a  watch  upon  their  ap- 
proaches; for  if  a  man  watch  too  long,  it  is 
odds  he  will  fall  a^sleep.  On  the  other  side, 
to  be  deceived  with  too  long  shadows,  (as 
some  have  been  when  the  moon  was  low  and 
shone  on  their  enemies'  back)  and  so  to 
shoot  oflf  before  the  time;  or  to  teach  dan- 
gers to  come  on  by  over-early  buckling 
towards  them,  is  another  extreme.  The 
ripeness  or  unripeness  of  the  occasion,  (as 
we  said)  must  ever  be  well  weighed;  and 
generally  it  is  good  to  commit  the  beginnings 
of  all  great  actions  to  Argos  with  his  hun- 
dred ej'es,  and  the  ends  to  Briareus  with  his 
hundred  hands;  first  to  watch,  and  then  to 
speed  ;  for  the  helmet  of  Pluto,  which 
maketh  the  politic  man  go  invisible,  is  se- 
cref^y  in  the  council,  and  celerity  in  the 
execution;  for  when  things  are  once  come 
to -the  execution,  there  is  no  secresy  com- 
parable to  celerity  ;  like  the  motion  of  a 
bullet  in  the  air,  which  flieth  so  swift  as  it 
outruns  the  eye.  _     . 


OF  CUNKING.  109 


JIXIII.    OF  CUNNING. 

We  take  cunning  for  a  sinister,  or  crooked 
wisdom;  and  certainly  there  is  a  great  dif- 
ference between  a  cunning  man  and  a  wise 
man,  not  only  in  point  of  honesty,  but  in 
point  of  ability.  There  be  that  can  pack 
the  cards,  and  yet  cannot  play  well;  so  there 
are  some  that  are  good  in  canvasses  and  fac- 
tions, that  are  otherwise  weak  men.  Again, 
it  is  one  thing  to  understand  persons,  and 
another  thing  to  understand  matters;  for 
many  are  perfect  in  men's  humours,  that  are 
not  greatly  capable  of  the  real  part  of  Jbusi- 
uess,  which  is  the  constitution  of  one  that  hath 
studied  men  more  than  books.  Such  men 
are  fitter  for  practice  than  for  counsel,  and 
they  are  good  but  in  their  own  alley:  turn 
them  to  new  men,  and  they  have  lost  their 
aim;  so  as  the  old  rule,  to  know  a  fool  from 
a  wise  man,  "Mitte  ambos  nudos  ad  ignotos, 
et  videbis,"  doth  scarce  hold  for  them;  ^ind, 
because  these  cunning  men  are  like  haber- 
dashers  of  small  wares,  it  is  not  amiss  to  set 
forth  their  shop. 

It  is  a  point  of  cunning  to  wait  upon  him 
with  whom  you  speak,  with  your  eye,  as  the 
Jesuits  give  it  in  precept;  for  there  be  manj 

VOL.  V.  8 


HO  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

wise  men  that  have  secret  hearts  and  trans- 
parent countenances  :  yet  this  would  be 
done  with  a  demure  abasing  of  your  eye 
sometimes,  as  the  Jesuits  also  do  use. 

Another  is,  that  when  you  have  any  thing 
to  obtain  of  present  dispatch,  you  entertain 
and  amuse  the  party  with  whom  you  deal 
with  some  other  discourse,  that  he  be  not 
too  much  awake  to  make  objections.  I 
knew  a  counsellor  and  secretary,  that  never 
came  to  queen  Elizabeth  of  England  vvith 
bills  to  sign,  but  he  would  always  first  put 
her  into  some  discourse  of  state,  that  she 
might  the  less  mind  the  bills. 

The  like  surprise  may  be  made  by  mov- 
ing things  when  the  party  is  in  haste,  and 
cannot  stay  to  consider  advisedly  of  that  is 
moved. 

If  a  man  would  cross  a  business  that  he 
doubts  some  other  would  handsomely  and 
effectually  move,  let  him  pretend  to  wish  it 
well,  and  move  it  himself,  in  such  sort  as 
may  foil  it. 

The  breaking  off  in  the  midst  of  that  one 
was  about  to  say,  as  if  he  took  himself  up, 
breeds  a  greater  appetite  in  him,  with  whom 
you  confer,  to  know  more. 

And  because  it  works  better  when  any 
thing  seemeth  to  be  gotten  from  you  by 


OF    CUKNINO.  Ill 

question,  than  if  you  offer  it  of  yourself, 
you  may  lay  a  bait  for  a  question,  by  show- 
ing another  visage  and  countenance  than  you 
are  wont;  to  the  end,  to  give  occasion  for 
the  party  to  ask  what  the  matter  is  of  the 
change,  as  Nehemiah  did,  "And  I  had  not 
before  that  time  been  sad  before  the  king." 

In  things  that  are  tender  and  unpleasing, 
it  is  good  to  break  the  ice  by  some  whose 
words  are  of  less  weight,  and  to  reserve  the 
more  weighty  voice  to  come  in  as  by  chance, 
so  that  he  may  be  asked  the  question  upon 
the  other's  speech;  as  Narcissus  did,  in  re- 
lating to  Claudius  the  marriage  of  Messalina 
and  Silius. 

In  things  that  a  man  would  not  be  seen  in 
himself,  it  is  a  point  of  cunning,  to  borrow 
the  name  of  the  world;  as  to  say,  "The 
world  says,"  or  "there  is  a  speech  abroad." 

I  knew  one  that,  when  he  wrote  a  letter, 
he  would  put  that  which  was  most  material 
in  the  postscript,  as  if  it  had  been  a  bye 
matter. 

I  knew  another  that,  when  he  came  to  have 
speech,  he  would  pass  over  that  that  he  in- 
tended most:  and  go  forth  and  come  back 
again,  and  speak  of  it  as  a  thing  he  had  al- 
most forgot. 


112  LORD  bacon's  ESSAYS. 

Some  procure  themselves  to  be  surprised 
at  such  times  as  it  is  like  the  party,  that 
they  work  upon,  will  suddenly  come  upon 
them,  and  be  found  with  a  letter  in  their 
hand,  or  doing  somewhat  which  they  are 
not  accustomed,  to  the  end  they  may  be  op- 
posed of  those  things  which  of  themselves 
they  are  desirous  to  utter. 

It  is  a  point  of  cunning,  to  let  fall  those 
words  in  a  mane's  own  name  which  he 
would  have  another  man  learn  and  use,  and 
thereupon  take  advantage.  I  knew  two 
that  were  competitors  for  the  secretary's 
place,  in  queen  Elizabeth's  time,  and  yet 
kept  good  quarter  between  themselves,  and 
would  confer  one  with  another  upon  the 
business;  and  the  one  of  them  said,  that  to 
be  a  secretary  in  the-  dechnation  of  a  mo- 
narchy was  a  ticklish  thing,  and  that  he 
did  not  affect  it:  the  other  straight  caught 
up  those  words,  and  discoursed  with  divers 
of  his  friends,  that  he  had  no  reason  to  de- 
sire to  be  secretary  in  the  declining  of  a  mo- 
narchy. The  first  man  took  hold  of  it,  and 
found  means  it  was  told  the  queen;  who, 
hearing  of  a  declination  of  monarchy,  took 
it  so  ill,  as  she  would  never  after  hear  of  the 
other's  suit. 


OP    CUNNING.  113 

There  is  a  cunning,  which  we  in  England 
call  "The  turning  of  the  cat  in  the  pan;" 
which  is,  when  that  which  a  man  says  to 
another,  he  lays  it  as  if  another  had  said  it 
to  him;  and,  to  say  truth,  it  is  not  easy,  when 
such  a  matter  passed  between  two,  to  make 
it  appear  from  which  of  them  it  first  moved 
and  began. 

It  is  a  way  that  some  men  have,  to  glance 
and  dart  at  others  by  justifying  themselves 
by  negatives;  as  to  say,  "This  I  do  not;"  as 
Tigellinus  did  towards  Burrhus,  "Se  non 
diversas  spes,  sed  incolumitatem  imperatoris 
simpliciter  spectare." 

Some  have  in  readiness  so  many  tales  and 
stories,  as  there  is  nothing  they  would  insi- 
nuate, but  they  can  wrap  it  into  a  tale;  which 
serveth  both  to  keep  themselves  more  on 
guard,  and  to  make  others  carry  it  with  more 
pleasure. 

It  is  a  good  point  of  cunning  for  a  man  to 
shape  the  answer  he  would  have  in  his  own 
words  and  propositions;  for  it  makes  the 
other  party  stick  the  less. 

It  is  strange  how  long  some  men  will  lie 
in  wait  to  speak  somewhat  they  desire  to 
say;  and  how  far  about  they  will  fetch,  and 
how  many  other  matters  they  will  beat  over 
to  come  near  it:  it  is  a  thiag  of  great  pa- 
tience, but  yet  of  much  use. 


114         LORD  bacon's  essays. 

A  sudden,  bold,  and  unexpected  question 
doth  many  tirnes  surprise  a  man,  and  lay 
bim  open.  Like  to  bim,  that,  baving 
changed  his  name,  and  walking  in  Paul's, 
another  suddenly  came  behind  him  and  cal- 
led him  by  his  true  name,  whereat  straight- 
ways  he  looked  back. 

But  these  small  wares  and  petty  points  of 
cunning  are  infinite,  and  it  were  a  good  deed 
to  make  a  list  of  them;'  for  that  nothing  doth 
more  hurt  in  a  state,  than  that  cunning  men 
pass  for  wise. 

But  certainly  some  there  are  that  know 
the  resorts  and  falls  of  business,  that  cannot 
sink  into  the  main  of  it;  like  a  house  that 
hath  convenient  stairs  and  entries,  but  never 
a  fair  room:  therefore  you  shall  see  them 
find  out  pretty  looses  in  the  conclusion, 
but  are  no  ways  able  to  examine  or  debate 
matters:  and  yet  commonly  they  take  ad- 
vantage of  their  inability >  and  would  be 
thought  wits  of  direction.  Some  build  ra- 
ther upon  the  abusing  of  others,  and  (as  we 
now  say)  putting  tricks  upon  them,  than 
upon  the  soundness  of  their  own  proceed- 
ings: but  Solomon  saith,  "Prudens  advertit 
ad  gressus  suos;  stultus  divertit  ad  dolos." 


eF  WISDOM  FOR  A  MAN's    SELJ-.  116 


aXIV.       OF  WISDOM  FOR  A  MAN  S  SELF. 

An  ant  is  a  wise  creature  for  itself,  but  it 
is  a  shrewd  thing  in  an  orchard  or  garden; 
and  certainly  men  that  are  great  lovers  of 
themselves  waste  the  public.  Divide  with 
reason  between  self-love  and  society;  and 
be  so  true  to  thyself,  as  thou  be  not  false  to 
others,  especially  to  thy  king  and  country. 
It  is  a  poor  centre  of  a  man's  actions,  him- 
self It  is  right  earth;  for  that  only  stands 
fast  upon  his  own  centre;  whereas  all 
things  that  have  affinity  with  the  heavens, 
move  upon  the  centre  of  another,  which 
they  benefit.  The  referring  of  all  to  a 
man's  self,  is  more  tolerable  in  a  sove- 
reign prince,  because  themselves  are  not 
only  themselves,  but  their  good  and  evil  is 
at  the  peril  of  the  public  fortune:  but  it 
is  a  desperate  evil  in  a  servant  to  a  prince, 
or  a  citizen  in  a  republic;  for  whatsoever 
affairs  pass  such  a  man's  bands,  he  crooketh 
them  to  his  own  ends,  which  must  needs  be 
often  eccentric,  to  the  ends  of  his  master  or 
state:  therefore  let  princes,  or  states,  choose 
such  servants  as  have  not  this  mark;  except 
they  mean  there  service  should  be  made 
but  the  accessary.     That  which  maketh  the 


116        LORD  bacon's  essays. 

effect  more  pernicious  is,  that  all  proportion 
is  lost;  it  were  disproportion  enough  for  the 
servant's  good,  to  be  preferred  before  the 
master's;  but  yet  it  is  a  greater  extreme, 
when  a  little  good  of  the  servant  shall  carry 
things  against  the  great  good  of  the  masters: 
and  yet  that  is  the  case  of  bad  officers,  trea- 
surers, ambassadors,  generals,  and  other 
false  and  corrupt  servants;  which  set  a  bias 
upon  their  bowl,  of  their  own  petty  ends 
and  envies,  to  the  overthrow  of  their  mas- 
ter's great  and  important  affairs:  and,  for  the 
most  part,  the  good  such  servants  receive  is 
after  the  model  of  their  own  fortune;  but 
the  hurt  they  sell  for  that  good  is  after  the 
model  of  their  master's  fortune:  and  cer- 
tainly it  is  the  nature  of  extreme  self-lovers, 
as  they  will  set  an  house  on  fire,  and  it  vvere 
but  to  roast  their  eggs;  and  yet  these  men 
many  times  hold  credit  with  their  masters, 
because  their  study  is  but  to  please  them, 
and  profit  themselves;  and  for  either  re- 
spect they  will  abandon  the  good  of  their 
affairs. 

Wisdom  for  a  man's  self  is,  in  many  bran-, 
ches  thereof,  a  depraved  thing:  it  is  the  wis- 
dom of  rats,  that  will  be  sure  to  leave  a  house 
sometime  before  it  fall :  it  is  the  wisdom  of  the 
tox,  that  thrusts  out  the  badger,  who  digged 


OF    INNOVATIONS.  117 

and  made  room  for  him:  it  is  the  wisdom 
of  crocodiles,  that  shed  tears  when  they 
would  devour.  But  that  which  is  specially 
to  be  noted  is,  that  those  which  (as  Cicero 
says  of  Pompey)  are,  "sui  amantes,  sine 
ritali,"  are  many  times  unfortunate;  and 
wl.ereas  they  have  all  their  time  sacrificed 
to  themselves,  they  become  in  the  end  them- 
selres  sacrifices  to  the  inconstancy  of  fortune, 
whi)se  wings  they  thought  by  their  self-wis- 
dotr.  to  have  pinioned. 


XXV.       OF    IWOVATIONS. 

As  the  births  of  living  creatures  at  first  are 
ill-sh»pen,  so  are  all  innovations,  which  are 
the  b\rths  of  time;  yet  notwithstanding,  as 
those  that  first  bring  honour  into  their 
family  are  commonly  more  worthy  than 
most  that  succeed,  so  the  first  precedent  (if 
it  be  gaod)  is  seldom  attained  by  imitation; 
for  ill  to  man's  nature  as  it  stands  pervert- 
ed, hath  a  natural  motion  strongest  in  con- 
tinuance; but  good,  as  a  forced  motion, 
strongest  at  first.  Surely  every  medicine  is 
an  innoration,  and  he  that  will  not  apply 
new  remedies  must  expect  new  evils;  for 
time  is  the  greatest  innovator;  and  if  time 


lis  LORD    bacon's    essays.    ^ 

of  course  alter  things  to  the  worse,  and  wis^ 
dom  and  counsel  shall  not  alter  them  to  t&e 
better,  what  shall  be  the  end?  It  is  true, 
that  what  is  settled  by  custom,  though  it 
be  not  good,  yet  at  least  it  is  fit;  and  those 
things  which  have  long  gone  together,  are, 
as  it  were,  confederate  within  themselves; 
whereas  new  things  piece  not  so  well;  but, 
thouj^h  they  help  by  their  utility,  yet  they 
tro!]ble  by  their  inconformity:  besides,  tley 
are  like  strangers,  more  admired,  and  iess 
favoured.  All  this  is  true,  if  time  stood 
still;  which  contrariwise,  moveth  so  round, 
that  a  froward  retention  of  custom  is  as  tur- 
bulent a  thing  as  an  innovation;  and  they 
that  reverence  too  much  old  times,  art  but 
a  scorn  to  the  new.  It  were  good,  there- 
fore, that  men,  in  their  innovations,  would 
follow  the  example  of  time  itself,  whicb 
indeed  innovateth  greatly,  but  quietlj,  and 
by  degrees  scarce  to  be  perceived;  for  other- 
wise, whatsoever  is  new  is  uulooked  fcr;  and 
ever  it  mends  some,  and  pairs  others;  and 
he  that  is  holpen  takes  it  for  a  fortune,  and 
thanks  the  time;  and  he  that  is  hurt  for  a 
wrong,  and  imputeth  it  to  the  author.  It  is 
good  also  not  to  try  experiments  in  states, 
except  the  necessity  be  urgent,  or  the  utility 
evident;  and  well  to  beware  that  it  be  the 


OF    DISPATCH.  119 

reformation  that  draweth  on  the  change,  and 
not  the  desire  of  change  that  pretendeth  the 
reformation:  and  lastly,  that  the  novelty, 
though  it  be  not  rejected,  yet  be  held  for  a 
suspect;  and,  as  the  Scripture  saith,  "  That 
we  make  a  stand  upon  the  ancient  way,  and 
then  look  about  us,  and  discover  what  is  tt^ 
straight  and  right  way,  and  so  to  walk  in  it. 


XXVI.       OF    DISrATCH. 

Affected  dispatch  is  one  of  the  most  dan- 
gerous things  to  business  that  can  be:  it  is 
like  that  which  the  physicians  call  prediges- 
tion,  or  hasty  digestion;  which  is  sure  to  fill 
the  body  full  of  crudities,  and  secret  seeds 
of  diseases:  therefore  measure  not  dispatch 
by  the  time  of  sitting,  but  by  the  advance- 
ment of  the  business:  and  as.  in  races,  it  is 
not  the  large  stride,  or  high  lift,  that  makes 
the  speed;  so,  in  business,  the  keeping  close 
to  the  matter,  and  not  taking  of  it  too  much 
at  once,  procureth  dispatch.  It  is  the  care 
of  some  only  to  come  off  speedily  for  the 
time,  or  to  contrive  some  false  periods  of 
business,  because  they  may  seem  men  of 
dispatch:  but  it  !«  one  thing  to  abbreviate  by 
contractiag,  another  by  cutting  off;  and  busi- 


120  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

ness  so  handled  at  several  sittings,  or  meet- 
ings, goeth  comraonly  backward  and  for-  , 
ward  in  an  unsteady  manner.  I  knew  a 
wise  man,  that  had  it  for  a  by-word,  when 
he  saw  men  hasten  to  a  conclusion,  "  Stay  a 
little,  that  we  may  make  an  end  the  sooner." 

On  the  other  side,  true  dispatch  is  a  rich 
thing;  for  time  is  the  measure  of  business, 
as  money  is  of  wares;  and  business  is  bought 
at  a  dear  hand  where  there  is  small  dispatch. 
The  Spartans  and  Spaniards  have  been  noted 
to  be  of  small  dispatch:  "  Mi  venga  la  muerte 
de  Spagna;" — "  Let  my  death  come  from 
Spain,"  for  then  it  will  be  sure  to  be  long 
in  coming. 

Give  good  hearing  to  those  that  give  the 
first  information  in  business,  and  rather  di- 
rect them  in  the  beginning,  than  interrupt 
them  in  the  continuance  of  their  speeches; 
for  he  that  is  put  out  of  his  own  order  will 
go  forward  and  backward,  and  be  more 
tedious  while  he  waits  upon  his  memory, 
than  he  could  have  been  if  he  had  gone  on 
in  his  own  course;  but  sometimes  it  is  seen 
that  the  moderator  is  more  troublesome  than 
the  actor. 

Iterations  are  commonly  loss  of  time;  but 
there  is  no  such  gain  of  time  as  to  iterate 
©ftea  the  state  of  the  question;  for  it  cbaseth 


OP    DISPATCH.  121 

away  many  a  frivolous  speech  as  it  is  coming 
forth.  Long  and  cufious  speeches  are  as  tit 
for  dispatch,  as  a  robe,  or  mantle,  with  a  long 
train,  is  for  a  race.  Prefaces,  and  passages, 
and  excusations,  and  other  speeches  of  refe- 
rence to  the  person,  are  great  wastes  of 
time;  and  though  they  seem  to  proceed  of 
modesty,  they  are  bravery.  Yet  beware  of 
being  too  material  when  there  is  any  impe- 
diment, or  obstruction,  in  men's  wills;  for 
preoccupation  of  mind  ever  requireth  pre- 
face of  speech,  like  a  fomentation  to  make 
the  unguent  enter. 

Above  all  things,  order,  and  distribution, 
and  singling  out  of  parts,  is  the  life  of  dis- 
patch; so  as  the  distribution  be  not  too  sub- 
tile: for  he  that  doth  not  divide  will  never 
enter  well  into  business;  and  he  that  divideth 
too  much  will  never  come  out  of  it  clearly. 
To  choose  time  is  to  save  time;  and  an  un- 
seasonable motion  is  but  beating  the  air. 
There  be  three  parts  of  business,  the  pre- 
paration; the  debate,  or  examination;  and 
the  perfection;  whereof,  if  you  look  for 
dispatch,. let  the  middle  only  be  the  work  of 
many,  and  the  first  and  last  the  work  of  few. 
The  proceeding  upon  somewhat  conceived 
in  writing  doth  for  the  most  part  facilitate 
dispatch:   for  though  it  should  be  wholly 


Vti  LORD   BACOiVs   ESSAYS. 

rejected,  yet  that  negative  is  more  pregnant 
of  direction  than  an  indefinite,  as  ashes  are 
more  generative  than  dust.     , 


XXVII.       OF    SEEMING    WISE. 

It  hath  been  an  opinion,  that  the  French  are 
wiser  than  they  seem,  and  the  Spaniards 
seem  wiser  than  they  are;  but  howsoever 
it  be  between  nations,  certainly  it  is  so  be- 
tween man  and  man;  for,  as  the  apostle  saith 
of  godliness,  "  Having  a  shew  of  godliness, 
but  denying  the  power  thereof;"  so  cer- 
tainly there  are  in  points  of  wisdom  and  suf- 
ficiency, that  do  nothing  or  little  very  so- 
lemnly: "  magno  conatu  nugas."  It  is  a 
ridiculous  thing,  and  fit  for  a  satire  to  persons 
of  judgment,  to  see  what  shifts  these  forma- 
lists have,  and  what  prospectives  to  make 
superficies  to  seem  body  that  hath  depth  and 
bulk.  Some  are  so  close  and  reserved,  as 
they  will  not  shew  their  wares  but  by  a  dark 
light,  and  seem  always  to  keep  back  some- 
what; and  when  they  know  within  them- 
selves they  speak  of  that  they  do  not  well 
know,  would  nevertheless  seem  to  others  to 
know  of  that  which  they  may  not  well  speak. 
Some  help  themselves  with  countenance  and 


OF    SEEMING   WISE.  123 

gesture,  and  are  wise  by  signs;  as  Cicero 
saith  of  Piso,  that  when  he  answered  him  be 
fetched  one  of  his  brows  up  to  hi«  forehead, 
and  bent  the  other  down  to  his  chin;  "■  re- 
spondes,  altero  ad  frontem  sublato,  altero 
ad  mentum  depresso  supercilio,  crudelitatem 
tibi  non  placere."  Some  think  to  bear  it 
by  speaking  a  great  word,  and  being  peremp- 
tory; and  go  on,  and  take  by  admittance  that 
which  they  cannot  make  good.  Some,  what- 
soever is  beyond  their  reach,  will  seem  to 
despise,  or  make  light  of  it,  as  impertinent 
or  curious:  and  so  would  have  their  igno- 
rance seem  judgment.  Some  are  never 
without  a  difference,  and  commonly  by  amus- 
ing men  with  a  subtilty,  blanch  the  matter; 
of  whom  A.  Gellius  saith,  "  hominem  deli- 
rum,  qui  verborum,  minutiis  rerum  fran'git 
pondera."  Of  which  kind  also  Plato,  in  his 
Protagoras,  bringeth  in  Prodicus  in  scorn, 
and  maketh  him  make  a  speech  that  consist- 
eth  of  distinctions  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end.  Generally  such  men,  in  all  delibera- 
tions, find  ease  to  be  of  the  negative  side, 
and  affect  a  credit  to  object  and  foretell  dif- 
ficulties; for  when  propositions  are  denied, 
there  is  an  end  of  them;  but  if  they  be  al- 
lowed, it  requireth  a  new  work;  which  false 
point  of  wisdom  is  the  bane  of  business. 


124  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

To  conclude,  there  is  no  decaying  merchant, 
or  inward  beggar,  hath  so  many  tricks  to 
uphold  the  credit  of  their  wealth,  as  these 
empty  persons  have  to  maintain  the  credit 
of  their  sufficiency.  Seeming  wise  men 
may  make  shift  to  get  opinion;  but  let  no 
man  choose  them  for  employment;  for  cer- 
tainly, you  were  better  take  for  business  a 
man  somewhat  absurd  than  over-formal. 


XXVIII.       OF    FRIENDSHIP. 

It  had  been  hard  for  him  that  spake  it,  to 
have  put  more  truth  and  untruth  together  in 
few  words,  than  in  that  speech,  "  Whoso- 
ever is  delighted  in  sohtude,  is  either  a  wild 
beast  or  a  god:"  for  it  is  most  true,  that  a 
natural  and  secret  hatred  and  aversion 
towards  society,  in  any  man,  hath  somewhat 
of  the  savage  beast;  but  it  is  most  untrue, 
that  it  should  have  any  character  at  all  of  the 
divine  nature,  except  it  proceed,  not  out  of 
a  pleasure  in  solitude,  but  out  of  a  love  and 
desire  to  sequester  a  man's  self  for  a  higher 
conversation:  such  as  is  found  to  have  been 
falsely  and  feignedly  in  some  of  the  heathens; 
as  Epimenides,  the  Candian;  Numa,  the  Ro- 
man; Empedocles,  the  Sicilian;  and  Apollo- 


OF    FRIENDSHIP.  125 

nius  of  Tyana;  and  truly  and  really  in 
divers  of  the  ancient  hermits  and  holy  fathers 
of  the  church.  But  little  do  men  perceive 
what  solitude  is,  and  how  far  it  extendeth; 
for  a  crowd  is  not  company,  and  faces  are 
'out  a  gallery  of  pictures,  and  talk  but  a 
tinkling  cymbal  where  there  is  no  love. 
The  Latin  adage  meeteth  with  it  a  little: 
'•magna  civitas,  magna  solitudo;"  because 
in  a  great  town  friends  are  scattered,  so 
that  there  is  not  that  fellowship,  for  the  most 
part,  which  is  in  less  neighbourhoods: 'but 
we  may  go  farther,  and  aflinn  most  truly, 
that  it  is  a  mere  and  miserable  solitude  to 
want  true  friends,  without  which  the  world 
is  but  a  wilderness;  and  even  in  this  scene 
also  of  solitude,  whosoever  in  the  frame  of 
his  nature  and  affections  is  unfit  for  friend- 
ship, he  taketh  it  of  the  beast,  and  not  from 
humanity. 

A  principal  fruit  of  friendship  is  the  ease 
and  discharge  of  the  fullness  of  the  heart, 
which  passions  of  all  kinds  do  cause  and  in- 
duce. We  know  diseases  of  stoppings  and 
suffocations  are  the  most  dangerous  in  the 
body;  and  it  is  not  much  otherwise  in  the 
mind;  you  may  take  sarza  to  open  the  liver, 
steel  to  open  the  spleen,  flower  of  sulphur 
for  the  lungs,  castoreura  for  the  brain;  but 

VOL.    V.  9 


126  LORD  BACON  S  ESSAYS. 

no  receipt  openeth  the  heart  but  a  true 
friend,  to  whom  you  may  impart  griefs,  joys, 
fears,  hopes,  suspicions,  counsels,  and  what- 
soever lieth  upon  the  heart  to  oppress  it,  in 
a  kind  of  civil  shrift  or  confession. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  to  observe  how  high 
a  rate  great  kings  and  monarchs  do  set  upon 
this  fruit  of  friendship  whereof  we  speak: 
so  great,  as  they  purchase  it  many  times  at 
the  hazard  of  their  own  safety  and  greatness: 
for  princes,  in  regard  of  the  distance  of  their 
fortune  from  that  of  their  subjects  and  ser- 
vants, cannot  gather  this  fruit,  except  (to 
make  themselves  capable  thereof)  they 
raise  some  persons  to  be  as  it  were  compa- 
nions, and  almost  equals  to  themselves,  which 
many  times  sorteth  to  inconvenience.  The 
modern  languages  give  unto  such  persons 
the  name  of  favourites,  or  privadoes,  as  If 
it  were  matter  of  grace,  or  conversation; 
but  the  Roman  name  attaineth  the  true  use 
and  cause  thereof,  naming  them  "  participes 
curarum;"  for  it  is  that  which  tieth  the 
knot:  and  we  see  plainly  that  this  hath 
been  done,  not  by  weak  and  passionate 
pjrinces  only,  but  by  the  wisest  and  most 
politic  that  ever  reigned,  who  have  often- 
times joined  to  themselves  some  of  their 
servants,  whom  both  themselves  have  called 


OF  FRIENDSHIP.  127 

friends,  and  allowed  others  likewise  to  call 
them  in  the  same  manner,  using  the  wqrd 
which  is  received  between  private  men. 

L.  Sylla,  when  he  commanded  Rome, 
raised  Pompey  (after  surnamed  the  Great) 
to  that  height,  that  Pompey  vaunted  himself 
foi;S\11a's  overmatch;  for  when  he  had  car- 
ried the  consulship 'for  a  friend  of  his,  against 
the  pursuit  of  Sylla,  and  that  Sylla  did  a  lit- 
tle resent  thereat,  and  began  to  speak  great, 
Pompey  turned  upon  him  again,  and  in  effect 
bade  him  be  quiet;  for  that  more  men  ador- 
ed the  sun  rising  than  the  sun  setting  With' 
Julius  Cassar,  Decimus  Brutus  had  obtained 
that  interest,  as  he  set  him  down  in  his  tes- 
tament for  heir  in  remainder  after  his  ne- 
phew; and  this  was  the  man  that  had  power 
with  him  to  draw  him  forth  to  his  death: 
for  when  Caesar  would  have  discharged  the 
senate,  in  regard  of  some  ill  presages,  and 
specially  a  dream  of  Calpurnia,  this  man 
lifted  him  gently  by  the  arm  out  of  his  chair, 
telling  him  he  hoped  he  would  not  dismiss 
the  senate  till  his  wife  had  dreamed  a  better 
dream;  and  it  seemed  his  favour  was  so 
great,  as  Antonius,  in  a  letter,  which  is  re- 
cited verbatim  in  one  of  Cicero's  Philippics, 
called  him  "venefica," — "witch;"  as  if  he  had 
enchanted  Cassar.     Augustus  raised  Agrippa 


128  LORD  bacon's  essays.  "" 

(though  of  mean  birth)  to  that  height,  as, 
when  he  consulted  with  Mascenas  about  the 
marriage  of  his  daughter  Julia,  Maecenas 
took  the  liberty  to  tell  him,  that  he  must 
either  marry  his  daughter  to  Agrippa,  or 
take  away  his  life:  there  was  no  third  way, 
he  had  made  him  so  great.  With  'I^befius 
Cajsar,  Sejanus  had  ascended  to  that  height 
as  they  two  were  termed  and  reckoned  as  a 
pair  of  friends.  Tiberius,  in  a  letter  to  him, 
saith,  "base  pro  amicitia  nostra  non  occul- 
tavi;"  and  the  whole  senate  dedicated  an 
altar  to  Friendship,  as  to  a  goddess,  in  re- 
spect of  the  great  dearness  of  friendship 
between  them  two.  The  like,  or  more,  was 
between  Septimus  and  Severus  and  Plautia- 
Dus;  for  he  forced  his  eldest  son  to  marry 
the  daughter  of  Plautianus,  and  would  often 
maintain  Plautianus  in  doing  affronts  to  his 
son:  and  did  write  also,  in  a  letter  to  the 
senate,  by  these  words:  "I  love  the  man  so 
well,  as  1  wish  he  may  over-live  me."  Now, 
if  these  princes  had  been  as  a  Trajan,  or  a 
Marcus  Aurelius,  a  man  might  have  thought 
that  this  had  proceeded  of  an  abundant  good- 
ness of  nature;  but  being  men  so  wise,  of 
such  strength  and  severity  of  mind,  and  so 
extreme  lovers  of  themselves,  as  all  these 
were,  it  provetb,  most  plainly,  that  they 


OF  FRIENDSHIP.    <.    .  129 

found  their  own  felicity  (though  as  great  as 
ever  happened  to  mortal  men)  but  as  an  half 
piece,  except  they  might  have  a  friend  to 
make  it  entire  ;  and  yet,  which  is  more, 
they  were  princes  that  had  wives,  pons„ 
nephews;  yet  all  these  could  not  supply  the 
comfort  of  friendship. 

It  is  not  to  be  forgotten  what  Comineus 
observeth  of  his  first  master,  duke  Charles 
the  Hardy,  namely,  that  be  would  communi- 
cate his  secrets  with  none;  and  Icjtst  of  all, 
those  secrets  which  troul>led  him  most. 
Whereupon  he  goeth  on,  and  saith,  that 
towards  his  latter  time  that  closeness  did 
impair  and  a  little  perish  his  understanding. 
Surely  Comineus  might  have  made  the  same 
judgment  also,  if  it  had  pleased  him,  of  his 
second  master,  Louis  the  Eleventh,  whose 
closeness  was  indeed  his  tormentor.  The 
parable  of  Pythagoras  is  dark,  but  true,  "Cor 
ne  edito," — "eat  not  the  heart."  Certainly, 
if  a  man  would  give  it  a  hard  phrase,  those 
that  want  friends  to  open  themselves  unto, 
are  cannibals  of  their  own  hearts:  but  one 
thing  is  most  admirable  (wherewith  I  will 
conclude  this  first  fruit  of  friendshij)),  which 
is,  that  this  communicating  of  a  man's  self  to 
his  friend  works  two  contrary  effects,  for  it 
redoubleth  joys,  and  cutteth  griefs  in  halfs  ; 


130  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

for  there  is  no  man  that  imparteth  his  joys 
to  his  friend,  hut  he  joveth  the  more;  and 
no  man  that  imparteth  his  griefs  to  his  friend, 
but  he  grieveth  the  less.  So  that  it  is,  in 
truth,  of  operation  upon  a  man's  mind,  of  like 
virtue  as  the  alchymists  use  to  attribute  to 
their  stone  for  man's  body,  that  it  worketh 
all  contrary  effects,  but  still  to  the  good  and 
benefit  of  nature:  but  yet,  without  praying 
in  aid  of  alchymists,  there  is  a  manifest 
image  of  this  in  the  ordinary  course  of  na- 
ture; for,  in  bodies,  union  strengtheneth 
and  cherisheth  any  natural  action;  and,  on 
the  other  side,  weakeneth  and  dulleth  any 
violent  impression ;  and  even  so  is  it  of 
minds. 

The  second  fruit  of  friendship  is  healthful 
and  sovereign  for  the  understanding,  as  the 
first  is  for  the  affections ;  for  friendship 
maketh  indeed  a  fair  day  in  the  affections 
from  storm  and  tempests,  but  it  maketh  day- 
light in  the  understanding,  out  of  darkness 
and  confusion  of  thoughts:  neither  is  this  to 
be  understood  only  of  faithful  counsel,  which 
a  man  receiveth  from  his  friend;  but  before 
you  come  to  that,  certain  it  is,  that  who- 
soever hath  his  mind  fraught  with  many 
thoughts,  his  wits  and  understanding  do 
clarify  and  break  up,  in  the  communicating 


OF  FRIENDSHIP.  131 

and  discoursing  with  another;  he  tosseth  his 
thoughts  more  easily;  he  marshalleth  them 
more  orderly;  he  seethhow  they  look  when 
they  are  turned  into  words;  finally,  he  wax- 
eth  wiser  than  himself;  and  that  more  by  an 
hour's  discourse  than  by  a  day's  meditation. 
It  was  well  said  by  Themistocles  to  the  king 
of  Persia,  "That  speech  was  like  cloth  of 
Arras,  opened  and  put  abroad;  whereby  the 
imagery  doth  appear  in  figure;  whereas  in 
thoughts  they  lie  but  as  in  packs."  Neither 
is  this  second  fruit  of  friendship,  in  opening 
the  understanding,  restrained  only  to  such 
friends  as  are  able  to  give  a  man  counsel, 
(they  indeed  are  best),  but  even  without 
that  a  man  learneth  of  himself,  and  bringeth 
his  own  thoughts  to  light,  and  whetteth  his 
wits  as  against  a  stone,  which  itself  cuts  not. 
In  a  word,  a  man  were  better  relate  himself 
to  a  statue  or  picture,  than  to  suffer  his 
thoughts  to  pass  in  smother. 

Add  now,  to  make  this  second  fruit  of 
friendship  complete,  that  other  point  which 
lieth  more  open,  and  falleth  with4n  vulgar  ob- 
servation :  which  is  faithful  counsel  from  a 
friend.  Heraclitus  saith  well  in  one  of  his 
enigmas,  "Dry  light  is  ever  the  best,"  and 
certain  it  is,  that  the  light  that  a  man  re- 
ceiveth    by  counsel  from  another,  is  drier 


132  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

and  purer  than  that  which  cometh  from  his 
oXvn  understanding  and  judgment,-  which  is 
ever  infused  and  drenched  in  his  affections 
and  customs.     So  as  there  is  as  much  dif- 
ference between  the  counsel   that   a  friend 
giveth,  and   that  a  man  giveth   himself,  as 
ihere  is  between  the  counsel  of  a  friend  and 
of  a  flatterer;  for  there  is  no  such  flatterer 
as  is  a  man's  self,  and  there  is  no  such  reme- 
dy against  flattery  of  a  man's  self  as  the  lib- 
erty of  a  friend.     Counsel  is  of  two  sorts; 
the  oue  concerning  manners,  the  other  con- 
cerning business:  for  the  first,  the  best  pre- 
servative to  keep  the  mind  in  health  is  the 
faithful  admonition  of  a  friend.     The  calling 
of  a  man's  self  to  a  strict  account,  is  a  medi- 
cine sometimes  too  piercing  and  corrosive; 
reading  good  books  of  morality  is  a  little  flat 
and  dead;  observing  our  faults  in  others  is 
sometimes   improper  for  our  case;  but  the 
best  receipt  (best  I  say  to  work  and  best  to 
take)  is  the  admonition  of  a  friend.     It  is  a 
strange  thing  to  behold   what  gross   errors 
and  extreme  absurdities  many  (especially  of 
the  greater  sort)  do  commit  for  want  of  a 
friend  to  tell  them  of  them,  to  the  great 
damage  both  of  their  fame  and  fortune:  for, 
as  St.  James  saith,  they  are  as  men  "that 
look  sometimes  into^  a  glass,  and  presently 


OF  FRIENDSHIP.  133 

forget  their  own  shape  and  favour:"  as  for 
business,  a  man  may  think,  if  he  will,  that 
two  eyes  see  no  more  than  one;  or,  that 
a  gamester  seeth  always  more  than  a  looker- 
on;  or,  that  a  man  in  anger  is  as  wise  as  he 
that  hath  said  over  the  four  and  twenty  let- 
ters; or,  that  a  musket  may  be  shot  off  as 
well  upon  the  arm  as  upon  a  rest;  and  such 
other  fond  and  high  imaginations,  to  think 
himself  all  in  all:  but  when  all  is  done,  the 
help  of  good  counsel  is  that  which  setteth 
business  straight;  and  if  any  man  think  that 
he   will   take  counsel,   but  it  shall  be   by 
pieces;  asking  counsel  in  one  business  of  one 
man,  and  in  another  business  of  another  man; 
it  is  as  well,  (that  is  to  say,  better,  perhaps, 
than  if  he  asked  none  at  all),  but  he  run- 
neth two   dangers;    one,  that  he  shall  not 
be  faithfully  counselled;  for  it  is  a  rare  thing, 
except  it  be  from  a  perfect  and  entire  friend, 
to  have  counsel  given,  but  such  as  shall  be 
bowed  and  crooked  to  some  ends  which  he  hath 
that  giveth  it:  the  other,  that  he  shall  have 
counsel  given,  hurtful  and  unsafe,  (though 
with   good  meaning),  and  mixed  partly  of 
mischief,  and  partly  of  remedy;  even  as  if 
you  would   call  a  physician,  that  is  thought 
good  for  the  cure  of  the  disease  you  com- 
plain of,  but  is  unacquainted  with  your  body; 


134  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

and,  therefore,  may  put  )'ou  in  a  way  for 
present  cure,  bjjt  overthrovveth  your  health 
in  some  other  kind,  and  so  cure  the  disease, 
and  kill  the  patient:  but  a  friend,  that  is 
wholly  acquainted  with  a  man's  estate,  will 
beware,  by  furthering  any  present  business, 
how  he  dasheth  upon  other  inconvenience; 
and,  therefore,  rest  not  upon  scattered  coun- 
sels; for  they  will  rather  distract  and  mis- 
lead, than  settle  and  direct. 

After  these  two  noble  fruits  of  friendship, 
(peace  in  the  affections,  and  support  of  the 
judgment),  foUoweth  the  last  fruit,  which  is, 
like  the  pomegranate,  full  of  many  kernels; 
I  mean,  aid  and  bearing  a  part  in  all  actions 
and  occasions.  Here  the  best  way  to  repre- 
sent to  life  the  manifold  use  of  friendship,  is 
to  cast  and  see  how  many  things  there  are 
which  a  man  cannot  do  himself;  and  then  it 
will  appear  that  it  was  a  sparing  speech  of 
the  ancients,  to  say,  "that  a  friend  is  another 
himself;  for  that  a  friend  is  far  more  than 
himself."  Men  have  their  time,  and  die 
many  times  in  desire  of  some  things  which 
they  principally  take  to  heart;  the  bestowing 
of  a  child,  the  finishing  of  a  work,  or  the 
like.  If  a  man  have  a  true  friend,  he  may 
rest  almost  secure  that  the  care  of  those 
things  will  continue  after  him;  so  that  a  man 


OF  FRIENDSHIP.  ISb 

hath,  as  it  were,  two  lives  in  his  desires. 
A  man  hath  a  body,  and  that  body  is  confin- 
ed to  a  place;  but  where  friendship  is,  all 
offices  of  life  are,  as  it  were,  granted  to  him 
and  his  deputy;  for  he  may  exercise  them 
by  his  friend.  How  many  things  are  there 
which  a  man  cannot,  with  any  face,  or  come- 
liness, say  or  do  himself?  A  man  can  scarce 
allege  his  own  merits  with  modesty,  much 
less  extol  them;  a  man  cannot  sometimes 
brook  to  supplicate,  or  beg,  and  a  number 
of  the  Uke:  but  all  these  things  are  graceful 
in  a  friend's  mouth,  which  are  blushing  in  a 
man's  own.  So  again,  a  man's  person  hath 
many  proj^er  relations  which  he  cannot  put 
off.  A  man  cannot  speak  to  his  son  but  as  a 
father;  to  his  wife  but  as  a  husband;  to  his 
enemy  but  upon  terms:  whereas  a  friend 
may  speak  as  the  case  requires,  and  not  as 
it  sorteth  with  the  person:  but  to  enume- 
rate these  things  were  endless;  I  have  given 
the  rule,  where  a  man  cannot  fitly  play  his 
own  part;  if  he  have  not  a  friend,  he  may 
quit  the  stage. 


l36  JLORD    bacon's    essays. 


XXIX.      OF    EXPENSE. 


Riches  are  for  spending,  and  spending  for 
honour  and  good  actions;  therefore  extraor- 
dinary expense  must  be  hmited  by  the 
worth  of  the  occasion;  for  voluntary  undo- 
ing may  be  as  well  for  a  man's  country  as 
for  the  kingdom  of  heaven;  but  ordinary  ex- 
pense ought  to  be  limited  by  a  man's  estate, 
and  governed  with  such  regard,  as  it  be 
within  his  compass;  and  not  subject  to  de- 
ceit and  abuse  of  servants;  and  ordered  to 
the  best  shew,  that  the  bills  may  be  less 
than  the  estimation  abroad.  Certainly,  if  a 
man  will  keep  but  of  even  hand,  his  ordina- 
ry expenses  ought  to  be  but  to  the  half  of 
his  receipts;  and  if  he  think  to  wax  rich, 
but  to  the  third  part.  It  is  no  baseness  for  the 
greatest  to  descend  and  look  into  their  own 
estate.  Some  forbear  it,  not  upon  negli- 
gence alone,  but  doubting  to  bring  them- 
selves into  melancholy,  in  respect  they  shall 
find  it  broken:  b.it  wounds  cannot  be  cured 
without  searching.  He  that  cannot  look 
into  his  own  estate  at  all,  had  need  both 
choose  well  those  whom  he  employeth,  and 
change  them  often;  for  new  are  more  timo- 
rous and  less  subtle.     He  that  can  look  into 


OF    EXPENSE.  137 

his  estate  but  seldom,  it  behoveth  him  to 
turn  all  to  certainties.  A  man  bad  need,  if 
he  be  plentiful  in  some  kind  of  expense,  to 
be  as  saving  again  in  some  other:  as  if  he  be 
plentiful  in  diet,  to  be  saving  in  apparel;  if 
he  be  plentiful  in  the  hall,  to  be  saving  in  the 
stable,  and  the  like:  for  he  that  is  plentiful  in 
expenses  of  all  kinds,  will  hardly  be  preserv- 
ed from  decay.  In  clearing  of  a  man's  es- 
tate, he  may  as  well  hurt  himself  in  being 
too  sudden,  as  in  letting  it  run  on  too  long; 
for  hasty  selling  is  commonly  as  disadvan- 
tageable  as  interest.  Besides,  he  that  clears 
at  once  will  relapse;  for  finding  himself  out 
of  straits,  he  will  revert  to  his  customs:  but 
he  that  cleareth  by  degrees  induceth  a  habit 
of  frugality,  and  gaineth  as  well  upon  his 
mind  as  upon  his  estate.  Certainly,  who 
hath  a  state  to  repair,  may  not  despise  small 
things;  and,  commonly,  it  is  less  dishonoura- 
ble to  abridge  petty  charges  than  to  stoop 
to  petty  gettings.  A  man  ought  warily  to 
begin  charges,  which  once  begun*will  con- 
tinue: but  in  matters  that  return  not  he  may 
be  more  magniScent. 


138  LORD  bacon's  essays. 


XXX.    OF    THE  TRUE    GREATNESS  OF    KINGDOMS 
AND    ESTATES. 

The  speech  of  Themistocles,  the  Athenian, 
which  was  haughty  and  arrogant,  in  taking 
so  much  to  himself,  had  been  a  grave  and 
wise  observation  and  censure,  apphed  at 
large  to  others.  Desired  at  a  feast  to  touch 
a  lute,  he  said,  "  He  could  not  fiddle,  but 
yet  he  could  make  a  small  town  a  great 
city."  These  words  (holpen  a  little  with  a 
metaphor)  may  express  two  differing  abili- 
ties in  those  that  deal  in  business  of  estate; 
for,  if  a  true  survey  be  taken  of  counsellors 
and  statesmen,  there  may  be  found  (though 
rarely)  those  which  can  make  a  small  state 
great,  and  yet  cannot  fiddle:  as,  on  the 
other  side,  there  will  be  found  a  great  many 
that  can  fiddle  very  cunningly,  but  yet  are 
so  far  from  being  able  to  make  a  small  state 
great,  as  their  gift  lieth  the  other  way;  to 
bring  a  great  and  flourishing  estate  to  ruin 
and  decay;  and,  certainly,  those  degenerate 
arts  and  shifts,  whereby  many  counsellors 
and  governors  gain  both  favour  with  their 
masters,  and  estimation  with  the  vulgar,  de- 
serve no  better  name  than  fiddhng;  being 
things   rather   pleasing  for  the   time,    and 


OF    KINGDOMS    AND    ESTATES.  139 

graceful  to  themselves  only,  than  tending  to 
the  weal  and  advancement  of  the  state  which 
they  serve.  There  are  also  (no  doubt) 
counsellors  and  governors  which  may  be 
held  sufficient,  "negotiis  pares,"  able  to 
manage  affairs,  and  to  keep  them  from  pre- 
cipices and  manifest  inconveniences;  which, 
nevertheless,  are  far  from  the  ability  to  raise 
and  amplify  an  estate  in  power,  means,  and 
fortune:  but  be  the  workmen  what  they 
may  be,  let  us  speak  of  the  work;  that  is, 
the  true  greatness  of  kingdoms  and  estates, 
and  the  means  thereof.  An  argument  fit  for 
great  and  mighty  princes  to  have  in  their 
hand;  to  the  end,  that  neither  by  over-mea- 
suring their  forces,  they  lose  themselves  in 
vain  enterprises;  nor,  on  the  other  side,  by 
undervaluing  them,  they  descend  to  fearful 
and  pusillanimous  counsels. 

The  greatness  of  an  estate,  in  bulk  and 
territory,  doth  fall  under  measure;  and  the 
greatness  of  finances  and  revenue  doth  fall 
under  computation.  The  population  may 
appear  by  musters;  and  the  number  and 
greatness  of  cities  and  towns  by  cards  and 
maps;  but  yet  there  is  not  anything,  amongst 
civil  affairs,  more  subject  to  error  than  the 
right  valuation  and  true  judgment  concern- 
ing the  power  and  forces  of  an  estate.     The 


140  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

kingdom  of  heaven  is  compared,  not  to  any 
great  kernel,  or  nut,  but  to  a  grain  of  mns- 
tard-seed;  which  is  one  of  the  least  grains, 
but  hath  in  it  a  property  and  spirit  hastily 
to  get  up  and  spread.  So  are  there  states 
great  in  territory,  and  yet  not  apt  to  enlarge 
or  command:  and  some  that  have  but  a  small 
dimension  of  stem,  and  yet  are  apt  to  be  the 
foundation  of  great  monarchies. 

Walled  towns,  stored  arsenals  and  armo- 
ries, goodly  races  of  horse,  chariots  of  war, 
elephants,  ordinance,  artillery,  and  the  like; 
all  this  is  but  a  sheep  in  a  lion's  skin,  ex- 
cept the  breed  and  disposition  of  the  peojde 
be  stout  and  warlike.  Nay,  number  (itself) 
in  armies  importeth  not  much,  where  the 
people  are  of  weak  courage;  for,  as  Vir- 
gil saith,  "  It  never  troubles  the  wolf  hovv 
many  the  sheep  be."  The  army  of  the 
Persians,  in  the  plains  of  Arbela,  was  such 
a  vast  sea  of  people,  as  it  did  scmewhat 
astonish  the  commanders  in^  Alexander's 
army,  who  came  to  him,  therefore,  and 
wished  him  to  set  upon  them  by  night;  but 
he  answered,  "  he  would  not  pilfer  the  vic- 
tory;" and  the  defeat  was  easy.  When 
Tigranes,  the  Armenian,  being  encamped 
upon  a  hill  with  four  hundred  thousand  men, 
discovered  the  army  of  the  Romans,   being 


OF  KINGDOMS  AND  ESTATES.      141 

not  above  fourteen  thousand,  marching 
towards  him,  he  made  himself  merry  with 
it,  and  said,  "  Yonder  men  are  too  many 
for  an  ambassage,  and  too  few  for  a  fight:" 
but,  before  the  sun  set,  he  found  them 
enow  to  give  him  the  chace  with  infinite 
slaughter.  Many  are  the  examples  of  the 
great  odds  between  number  and  courage:  so 
that  a  man  may  truly  make  a  judgment,  that 
the  principal  point  of  greatness,  in  any  state, 
is  to  have  a  race  of  military  men.  Neither 
is  money  the  sinews  of  war  (as  it  is  trivially 
said),  where  the  sinews  of  men's  arms  in 
base  and  effeminate  people  are  failing;  for 
Solon  said  well  to  Croesus  (when  in  osten- 
tation he  shewed  him  his  gold),  "  Sir,  if 
any  other  come  that  hath  better  iron  than 
you,  he  will  be  master  of  all  this  gold." 
Therefore,  let  any  prince,  or  state,  think 
soberly  of  his  forces,  except  his  militia  of 
natives  be  of  good  and  valiant  soldiers;  and 
let  princes,  on  the  other  side,  that  have  sub- 
jects of  martial  disposition,  know  their  own 
strength,  unless  they  be  otherwise  wanting 
unto  themselves.  As  for  mercenary  forces 
(which  is  the  help  in  this  case),  all  exam- 
ples show  that,  whatsoever  estate,  or  prince, 
doth  rest  upon  them,  he  may  spread  his 
roL.  r.  lO 


142  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

feathers  for  a  time,  but  he  will  mew  them 
soon  after. 

The  blessing  of  Judas  and  Issachar  will 
never  meet;  that  the  same  people,  or  na- 
tion, should  be  both  the  lion's  whelp  and 
the  ass  between  burdens:  neither  will  it 
be,  that  a  people  overlaid  with  taxes  should 
ever  become  valiant  and  martial.  It  is 
true,  that  taxes,  levied  by  consent  of  the 
estate,  do  abate  men's  courage  less;  as  it 
hath  been  seen  notably  in  the  exercises  of 
the  Low  Countries;  and,  in  some  degree, 
in  the  subsidies  of  England;  for,  you  must 
note,  that  we  speak  now  of  the  heart,  and 
not  of  the  purse;  so  that,  although  the 
same  tribute  and  tax,  laid  by  consent  or 
by  imposing,  be  all  one  to  the  purse,  yet 
it  works  diversely  upon  the  courage.  So 
that  you  may  conclude,  that  no  people 
overcharged  with  tribute  is  fit  for  empire. 

Let  states,  that  aim  at  greatness,  take 
heed  how  their  nobility  and  gentlemen  do 
multiply  too  fast;  for  that  maketh  the  com- 
mon subject  grow  to  be  a  peasant  and 
base  swain,  driven  out  of  heart,  and,  in 
effect,  but  a  gentleman's  labourer.  Evea 
as  you  may  see  in  coppice  woods;  if  you 
leave  your  staddles  too  thick,  you  shall 
never  have   clean  underwood,   but  shrubs 


OP  KINGDOMS  AND  ESTATES.      143 

and  bashes.  So  in  countries,  if  the  gentle- 
men be  too  many,  the  commons  will  be  base; 
and  you  will  bring  it  to  that,  that  not  the 
hundreth  poll  will  be  fit  for  an  helmet;  es- 
pecially as  to  the  infantry,  which  is  the 
nerve  of  an  army;  and  so  there  will  be  great 
population  and  little  strength.  This  which 
I  speak  of  hath  been  no  where  better  seen 
than  by  comparing  of  England  and  France; 
whereof  England,  though  far  less  in  terri- 
tory and  population,  hath  been  (neverthe- 
less) an  overmatch;  in  regard  the  middle 
people  of  England  make  good  soldiers, 
which  the  peasants  of  France  do  not:  and 
Ijerein  the  device  of  king  Henry  the  Seventh 
(whereof  1  have  spoken  largely  in  the  his- 
tory of  his  life)  was  profound  and  admirable; 
in  making  farms  and  houses  of  husbandry  of 
a  standard;  that  is,  maintained  with  such  a 
proportion  of  land  unto  them  as  may  breed 
a  subject  to  live  in  convenient  plenty,  and 
no  servile  condition;  and  to  keep  the  plough 
in  the  hands  of  the  owners,  and  not  mere 
hirelings;  and  thus  indeed  you  shall  attain 
to  Virgil's  character,  which  he  gives  to 
ancient  Italy: 

"  Toia  poteos  armis  atque  ubore  glete." 


144  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

Neither  is  that  state  (which,  for  any  thiug 
I  know,  is  alnaost  peculiar  to  England,  and 
hardly  to  be  found  any  where  else,  except  it 
be,  perhaps,  in  Poland)  to  be  passed  over;  I 
mean  the  state  of  free  servants  and  atten- 
dants upon  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  which 
are  no  ways  inferior  luito  the  yeomanry 
for  arms;  and  therefore,  out  of  all  ques- 
tion, the  splendour  and  magnificence,  and 
great  retinues,  the  hospitality  of  noblemen 
and  gentlemen  received  into  custom,  do 
much  conduce  unto  martial  greatness:  where- 
as, contrariwise,  the  close  and  reserved  liv- 
ing of  noblemen  and  gentlemen  causeth  a 
penury  of  military  forces. 

By  all  means  it  is  to  be  procured,  that  the 
trunk  of  Nebuchadnezzar's  tree  of  monar- 
chy be  great  enough  to  bear  the  branches 
and  the  boughs;  that  is,  that  the  natural  sub- 
jects of  the  crown,  or  state,  bear  a  sufficient 
proportion  to  the  strange  subjects  that  they  go- 
vern: therefore  all  states  that  are  liberal  of  na- 
turalization towards  strangers  are  fit  for  em- 
pire: for  to  think  that  an  handful  of  people 
can,  with  the  greatest  courage  and  po- 
licy in  the  world,  embrace  too  large  extent 
of  dominion,  it  may  hold  for  a  time,  but  it 
will  fail  suddenly.  The  Spartans  were  a 
nice    people    in    point    of    naturalization; 


OF  KINGDOMS   AND    ESTATES.  145 

whereby,  while  they  kept  their  compass, 
they  stood  firm;  but  when  they  did  spread, 
and  their  boughs  were  become  too  great  for 
their  stem,  they  became  a  windfall  upon  the 
sudden.  Never  any  state  was,  in  this  point, 
so  open  to  receive  strangers  into  their 
body,  as  were  the  Romans;  therefore,  it 
sorted  with  them  accordingly,  for  they 
grew  to  the  greatest  monarchy.  Their 
manner  was  to  grant  naturalization  (which 
they  called  "jus  civitatis"),and  to  grant  it  in 
the  highest  degree,  that  is,  not  only  "jus 
commercii,  jus  connubii,  jus  haereditatis;" 
but  also,  "jus  suffragii,"  and  "jus  honorum;" 
and  this  not  to  singular  persons  alone,  but 
likewise  to  whole  families;  yea,  to  cities, 
and  sometimes  to  nations.  Add  to  this,  their 
custom  of  plantation  of  colonies,  whereby 
the  Roman  plant  was  removed  into  the  soil 
of  other  nations;  and  putting  both  constitu- 
tions together,  you  will  say,  that  it  was  not 
the  Romans  that  spread  upon  the  world,  but 
it  was  the  world  that  spread  upon  the  Ro- 
mans; and  that  was  the  sure  way  of  great- 
ness. I  have  marvelled  sometimes  at  Spain, 
how  they  clasp  and  contain  so  large  domi- 
nions with  so  few  natural  Spaniards:  but  sure 
the  whole  compass  of  Spain  is  a  very  great 
body  of  a  tree,  far  above  Rome  and  Sparta 


146  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

at  the  first;  and,  besides,  though  they  have 
not  had  that  usage  to  naturaHze  liberally,  yet 
they  have  that  which  is  next  to  it;  that  is, 
to  employ,  almost  indifferently,  all  nations 
in  their  militia  of  ordinary  soldiers;  yea, 
and  sometimes  in  their  highest  commands: 
nay,  it  seemeth  at  this  instant,  they  are 
sensible  of  this  want  of  natives:  as  by  the 
Pragmatical  sanction,  now  published,  ap- 
peareth. 

It  is  certain,  that  sedentary  and  within- 
door  arts,  and  delicate  manufactures  (that 
require  rather  the  finger  than  the  arm), 
have  in  their  nature  a  contrariety  to  a  mili- 
tary disposition;  and  generally  all  warlike 
people  are  a  little  idle,  and  love  danger  bet- 
ter than  travail;  neither  must  they  be  too 
much  broken  of  it,  if  they  shall  be  preserv- 
ed in  vigour:  therefore  it  was  great  advan- 
tage in  the  ancient  states  of  Sparta,  Athens, 
Rome,  and  others,  that  they  had  the  use 
of  slaves,  which  commonly  did  rid  those 
manufactures;  but  that  is  abolished,  in 
greatest  part,  by  the  Christian  law.  That 
which  cometh  nearest  to  it  is,  to  leave  those 
arts  chiefly  to  strangers  (which,  for  that  pur- 
pose, are  the  more  easily  to  be  received), 
and  to  contain  the  principal  bulk  of  the  vul- 
gar natives  within  those  three  kinds,  tillers 


OF  KINGDOMS  AND  ESTATES.     147 

of  the  ground,  free  servants,  and  handicrafts- 
men of  strong  and  manly  arts;  as  smiths,  ma- 
sons, carpenters,  &c.  not  reckoning  profes- 
sed soldiers. 

But,  above  all,  for  empire  and  greatness, 
it  importeth  most,  that  a  nation  do  profess 
arms  as  their  principal  honour,  study,  and 
occupation;  for  the  things  which  we  for- 
merly have  spoken  of  are  but  habilitations 
towards  arras;  and  what  is  habilitation 
without  intention  and  act?  Romulus,  after 
his  death  (as  they  report  or  feign),  sen*  a 
present  to  the  Romans,  that  above  all  they 
should  intend  arms,  and  then  they  should 
prove  the  greatest  empire  of  the  world. 
The  febric  of  the  state  of  Sparta  was  wholly 
(though  not  wisely)  framed  and  composed  to 
that  scope  and  end;  the  Persians  and  Mace- 
donians had  it  for  a  flash;  the  Gauls,  Ger- 
mans, Goths,  Saxons,  Normans,  and  others, 
had  it  for  a  time:  the  Turks  have  it  at  this 
day,  thonjih  in  great  declination.  Of  Chris- 
tian Europe  they  that  have  it  are,  in  efl'ect, 
only  the  Spaniards:  but  it  is  so  plain,  that 
every  man  profiteth  in  that  he  most  in- 
tendeth,  that  it  needeth  not  to  be  stood 
upon:  it  is  enough  to  point  at  it;  that  no 
nation  which  doth  not  directly  profess  arms, 
may  look   to   have  greatness  fall  inta  their 


148  I.ORD  bacon's  essays. 

mouths;  and,  on  the  other  side,  it  is  a  most 
certain  oracle  of  time,  that  those  states  that 
continue  long  in  that  profession  (as  the  Ro- 
mans and  Turks  principally  have  done)  do 
wonders;  and  those  that  have  professed  arras 
but  for  an  age  have,  notwithstanding,  com- 
monly attained  that  greatness  in  that  age 
which  maintained  them  long  after,  when 
their  profession  and  exercise  of  arms  hath 
grown  to  decay. 

Incident  to  this  point  is  for  a  state  to  have 
those  laws  or  customs  wliich  may  reach 
forth  unto  them  jtist  occasions  (as  may  be 
pretended)  of  war;  for  there  is  that  jus- 
tice imprinted  in  the  nature  of  men,  that 
they  enter  not  upon  wars  (whereof  so  many 
calamities  do  ensue),  but  upon  some,  at  the 
least  specious,  grounds  and  quarrels.  The 
Turk  hath  at  hand,  for  cause  of  war,  the 
propagation  of  his  law  or  sect,  a  quarrel 
that  he  may  always  command.  The  Ro- 
mans, though  they  esteemed  the  extending 
the  limits  of  their  empire  to  be  great  ho- 
nour to  their  generals  when  it  was  done, 
yet  they  never  rested  upon  that  alone  to 
begin  a  war:  first,  therefore,  let  nations  that 
pretend  to  greatness  have  this,  that  they  be 
sensible  of  wrongs,  either  upon  borderers, 
merchants,   or    politic  ministers;    and    that 


OF  KINGDOMS  AND  ESTATES.  149 

they  sit  not  too  long  upon  a  provocation: 
secondly,  let  them  be  pressed  and  ready 
to  give  aids  and  succours  to  their  confede* 
rates;  as  it  ever  was  with  the  Romans;  inso- 
much, as  if  the  confederates  had  leagues 
defensive  with  divers  other  states,  and, 
upon  invasion  oflfered,  did  implore  their  aids 
severally,  yet  the  Romans  would  ever  be 
the  foremost,  and  leave  it  to  none  other  to 
have  the  honour.  As  for  the  wars,  which 
were  anciently  made  on  the  behalf  of  a  kind 
of  party,  or  tacit  conformity  of  state,  I  do 
not  see  how  they  may  be  well  justified:  as 
when  the  Romans  made  a  war  for  the  liberty 
of  Grajcia;  or,  when  the  Lacedsemonians 
and  Athenians  made  a  war  to  set  up  or  pull 
down  democracies  and  oligarchies:  or  when 
wars  were  made  by  foreigners,  under  the 
pretence  of  justice  or  protection,  to  deliver 
the  subjects  of  others  from  tyranny  and  op- 
pression and  the  like.  Let  it  suffice,  that  no 
estate  expect  to  be  great,  that  is  not  awake 
upon  any  just  occasion  of  arming. 

No  body  can  be  healthful  without  exercise, 
neither  natural  body  nor  politic;  and,  cer- 
tainly, to  a  kingdom,  or  estate,  a  just  and 
honourable  war  is  the  true  exercise.  A  ci- 
vil war,  indeed,  is  like  the  heat  of  a  fever; 
but  a  foreign  war  is  like  the  heat  of  exer- 


150  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

cise,  and  serveth  to  keep  the  body  in  health; 
for,  in  a  slothful  peace,  both  courages  will 
effeminate,  and  manners  corrupt;  but  how- 
soever it  be  for  happiness,  without  all  ques- 
tion for  greatness,  it  maketh  to  be  still  for 
the  most  part  in  arms:  and  the  strength  of  a 
veteran  army  (though  it  be  a  chargeable 
business),  always  on  foot,  is  that  which  com- 
monly giveth  the  law;  or,  at  least,  the  re- 
putation amongst  all  neighbour  states,  as  may 
be  well  seen  in  Spain;  which  hath  had,  in 
one  part  or  other,  a  veteran  army  almost 
continually,  now  by  the  space  of  six  score 
years. 

To  be  master  of  the  sea  is  an  abridgment 
of  a  monarchy.  Cicero,  writing  to  Atticus 
of  Pompey  his  preparation  against  Caesar, 
saith,  "Consilium  Pompeii  plane  Themisto- 
cleum  est;  pntat  enim,  qui  raari  potitur,  eura 
rerum  potiri;"  and,  without  doubt,  Pompey 
had  tired  out  Caesar,  if  upon  vain  confidence 
he  had  not  left  that  way.  We  see  the  great 
effects  of  battles  by  sea:  the  battle  of  Actium 
decided  the  empire  of  the  world;  the  battle 
of  Lepanto  arrested  tiie  greatness  of  the 
Turk.  There  be  many  examples,  where 
sea-fights  have  been  final  to  the  war:  but 
this  is  when  princes,  or  states,  have  set  up 
their  rest  upon  the  battles;  but  thus  much  is 


« 


OF  KINGDOMS  AND  ESTATES.      151 

certain,  that  he  that  commands  the  sea  is  at 
great  Hberty,  and  may  take  as  much  and  as 
little  of  the  war  as  he  will;  whereas  those 
that  be  strongest  by  land,  are  many  times, 
nevertheless,  in  great  straits.  Surely,  at 
this  day,  with  us  of  Europe,  the  vantage  of 
strength  at  sea  (which  is  one  of  the  principal 
dowries  of  this  kingdom  of  Great  Britain)  is 
great;  both  because  most  of  the  kingdoms  of 
Europe  are  not  merely  inland,  but  girt  with 
the  sea  most  part  of  their  compass;  and  be- 
cause the  wealth  of  both  Indies  seems,  in 
great  part,  but  an  accessary  to  the  command 
of  the  seas. 

The  wars  of  later  ages  seem  to  he  made 
in  the  dark,  in  respect  to  the  glory  and  ho- 
nour which  reflected  upon  men  from  the 
wars  in  ancient  time.  There  be  now,  for 
martial  encouragement,  some  degrees  and 
orders  of  chivalry,  which,  nevertheless,  are 
conferred  promiscuously  upon  soldiers  and 
no  soldiers,  and  some  remembrance  perhaps 
upon  the  escutcheon,  and  some  hospitals  for 
maimed  soldiers,  and  such  like  things;  but, 
in  ancient  times,  the  trophies  erected  upon 
the  place  of  the  victory;  the  funeral  lauda- 
tives  and  monuments  for  those  that  died  in 
the  wars;  the  crowns  and  garlands  personal; 
the  style  of  emperor,  which  the  great  kings 


152  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

of  the  world  after  borrowed;  the  triumphs 
of  the  generals  upon  their  return;  the  great 
donatives  and  largesses  upon  the  disbanding 
of  the  armies,  were  things  able  to  inflame 
all  men's  courages;  but,  above  all,  that  of 
the  triumph  amongst  the  Romans  was  not 
pageants,  or  gaudery,  but  one  of  the  wisest 
and  noblest  institutions  that  ever  was;  for  it 
contained  three  things,  honour  to  the  gene- 
ral, riches  to  the  treasury  out  of  the  spoils, 
and  donatives  to  the  army:  but  that  honour, 
perhaps,  were  not  fit  for  monarchies;  ex- 
cept it  be  in  the  person  of  the  monarch 
himself,  or  his  sons;  as  it  came  to  pass  in 
the  times  of  the  Roman  emperors,  who  did 
impropriate  the  actual  triumphs  to  them- 
selves and  their  sons,  for  such  wars  as  they 
did  achieve  in  person,  and  left  only  for  wars 
achieved  by  subjects,  some  triumphal  gar- 
ments and  ensigns  to  the  general. 

To  conclude:  no  man  can  by  care  taking 
(as  the  Scripture  saith),  *'  add  a  cubit  to  his 
stature,"  in  this  little  model  of  a  man's  body; 
but  in  the  great  fame  of  kingdoms  and  com- 
monwealths, it  is  in  the  power  of  princes,  or 
estates,  to  add  amplitude  and  greatness  to 
their  kingdoms;  for  by  introducing  such  or- 
dinances, constitutions,  and  customs,  as  we 
hare  now  touched,  they  may  sow  greatness 


OF    REGIMEN    OP    HEALTH.  153 

to  their  posterity  and  succession:  but  these 
things  are  commonly  not  observed,  but  left 
to  take  their  chance. 


ItXXI.       OF    REOIMEN    OF    HEALTH. 

There  is  a  wisdom  in  this  beyond  the  rules 
of  physic:  a  man's  own  observation,  what  he 
finds  good  of,  and  what  he  finds  hurt  of,  is 
the  best  physic  to  preserve  health;  but  it  is 
a  safer  conclusion  to  say,  "  This  agreeth  not 
well  with  me,  therefore  I  will  not  continue 
it;"  than  this,  "  I  find  no  offence  of  this, 
therefore  I  may  use  it:"  for  strength  of  na- 
ture in  youth  passeth  over  many  excesses 
which  are  owing  a  man  till  his  age.  Dis- 
cern of  the  coming  on  of  years,  and  think 
not  to  do  the  same  things  still;  for  age  will 
not  be  defied.  Beware  of  sudden  change  in 
any  great  point  of  diet,  and,  if  necessity 
enforce  it,  fit  the  rest  to  it;  for  it  is  a  secret 
both  in  nature  and  state,  that  it  is  safer  to 
change  many  things  than  one.  Examine 
thy  customs  of  diet,  sleep,  exercise,  apparel, 
and  the  like;  and  try,  in  any  thing  thou  shalt 
judge  hurtful,  to  discontinue  it  by  little  and 
little;  but  so,  as  if  thou  dost  find  any  incon- 
venience by  the  change,  thou  come  back  to 


154  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

it  again:  for  it  is  hard  to  distinguish  that 
which  is  generally  held  good  and  wholesome, 
from  that  which  is  good  particularly,  and  fit 
for  thine  own  body.  To  be  free-minded 
and  cheerfully  disposed  at  hours  of  meat 
and  sleep,  and  of  exercise,  is  one  of  the 
best  precepts  of  long  lasting.  As  for  the 
passions  and  studies  of  the  mind,  avoid  envy, 
anxious  fears,  anger,  fretting  inwards,  sub- 
tile and  knotty  inquisitions,  joys  and  exhila- 
rations in  excess,  sadness  not  communicated. 
Entertain  hopes,  mirth  rather  than  joy,  va- 
riety of  delights  rather  than  surfeit  of  them;- 
wonder  and  admiration,  and  therefore  novel- 
ties; studies  that  fill  the  mind  with  splendid 
and  illustrious  objects,  as  histories,  fables, 
and  contemplations  of  nature.  If  you  fly 
physic  in  health  altogether,  it  will  be  too 
strange  for  your  body  when  you  shall  need 
it;  if  you  make  it  too  familiar,  it  will  work 
no  extraordinary  effect  when  sickness  cometh. 
I  commend  rather  some  diet  for  certain  sea- 
sons, than  frequent  use  of  physic,  except  it 
be  grown  into  a  custom;  for  those  diets  alter 
the  body  more,  and  trouble  it  less.  Despise 
no  new  accident  in  your  body,  but  ask  opi- 
nion of  it.  In  sickness,  respect  health  prin- 
cipally; and  in  health,  action:  for  those  that 
pot  their  bodie«  tp  endure  in  health,  may, 


OF   SV3PICI0K.  155 

in  most  sicknesses  which  are  not  very  sharp, 
be  cured  only  with  diet  and  tendering.  Cei- 
sus  could  never  have  spoken  it  as  a  physician, 
had  he  not  been  a  wise  man  withal,  when  he 
giveth  it  for  one  of  the  great  precepts  of 
health  and  lasting,  that  a  man  do  vary  and 
interchange  contraries;  but  with  an  inclina- 
tion to  the  more  benign  extreme:  use  fasting 
and  full  eating,  but  rather  full  eating;  watch- 
ing and  sleep,  but  rather  sleep;  sitting  and 
exercise,  but  rather  exercise,  and  the  like: 
so  shall  nature  be  cherished,  and  yet  taught 
masteries.  Physicians  are  some  of  them 
so  pleasing  and  conformable  to  the  humour 
of  the  patient,  as  they  press  not  the  true 
cure  of  the  disease;  and  some  other  are  so 
regular  in  proceeding  according  to  art  for 
the  disease,  as  they  respect  not  sufficiently 
the  condition  of  the  patient.  Take  one  of  a 
middle  temper;  or,  if  it  may  not  be  found  in 
one  man,  combine  two  of  either  sort;  and 
forget  not  to  call  as  well  the  best  acquainted 
with  your  body,  as  the  best  reputed  of  for 
his  faculty. 


XXXII.    OF   SUSFICIOV. 

SusFTcioNS  amongsf  thoughts  are  like  bats 
amongst  birds,  they  ever  fly  by  twilight: 


156  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

certainly  they  are  to  be  reprepsed,  or  at  the 
least  well  guarded;  for  they  cloud  the  mind, 
they  lose  friends,  and  they  check  with  busi- 
ness, whereby  business  cannot  go  on  current- 
ly and  constantly:  they  dispose  kings  to  ty- 
ranny, husbands  to  jealousy,  wise  men  to 
irresolution  and  melancholy:  they  are  de- 
fects, not  in  the  heart,  but  in  the  brain;  for 
they  take  place  in  the  stoutest  natures:  as 
in  the  example  of  Henry  the  Seventh  of 
England;  there  was  not  a  more  suspicious 
man,  nor  a  more  stout:  and  in  such  a  compo- 
sition they  do  small  hurt;  for  commonly  they 
are  not  admitted  but  with  examiivation,  whe- 
ther they  be  likely  or  no?  but  in  fearful 
natures  they  gain  ground  too  fast.  There 
is  nothing  makes  a  man  suspect  much,  more 
than  to  know  little;  and,  thei-efore,  men 
should  remedy  suspicion  by  procuring  to 
know  more,  and  not  to  k6ep  their  suspicions 
in  smother.  What  would  men  have?  do  they 
think  those  they  employ  and  deal  with  are 
saints?  do  they  not  think  they  will  have 
their  own  ends,  and  be  truer  to  themselves 
than  to  them?  therefore  there  is  no  better 
way  to  moderate  suspicions,  than  to  account 
upon  such  suspicions  as  true,  and  yet  to  bri- 
dle them  as  false:  for  so  far  a  man  ought  to 
make  use  of  suspicioBS,  as  to  provide,  as  if 


OF    DISCOURSE.  157 

that  should  be  true  that  he  suspects,  yet  it 
may  do  hiaa  no  hurt.  Suspicions  that  the 
mind  of  itself  gathers,  are  but  buzzes;  but 
suspicions  that  are  artificially  nourished,  and 
put  into  men's  heads  by  the  tales  and  whis- 
perin-gs  of  others,  have  stings.  Certainly, 
the  best  mean  to  clear  the  way  in  this  same 
wood  of  suspicion,  is  frankly  to  communicate 
them  with  the  party  that  he  suspects;  for 
thereby  he  shall  be  sure  to  know  more  of 
the  truth  of  them  than  he  did  before;  and 
withal  shall  make  that  party  more  circum- 
spect, not  to  give  further  cause  of  suspicion; 
but  this  would  not  be  done  to  men  of  base 
natures;  for  they,  if  they  find  themselves 
once  suspected,  will  never  be  true.  The 
Italian  says,  "  Sospetto  licentia  fede;"  as  if 
suspicion  did  give  a  passport  to  faith;  but  it 
ought  rather  to  kindle  it  to  discharge  itself. 


XXXIII.    OF    DISCOURSE. 

Some  in  their  discourse  desire  rather  com- 
mendation of  wit,  in  being  able  to  hold  all 
arguments,  than  of  judgment,  in  discerning 
what  is  true;  as  if  it  were  a  praise  to  know 
what  might  be  said,  and  not  what  should  be 
thought.     Some  have  certain  common  places 

VOL.    V.  11 


158  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

and  themes,  wherein  they  are  good,  and  want 
variety;  which  kind  of  poverty  is  for  the 
most  part  tedious,  and,  when  it  is  once  per- 
ceived, ridiculous.  The  honourablest  part 
of  talk  is  to  give  the  occasion;  and  again  to 
moderate  and  pass  to  somewhat  else,  for  then 
a  man  leads  the  dance.  It  is  good  in  dis- 
course, and  speech  of  conversation,  to  vary 
and  intermingle  speech  of  the  present  occa- 
sion with  arguments,  tales  with  reasons,  ask- 
ing of  questions  with  telling  of  opinions,  and 
jest  with  earnest:  for  it  is  a  dull  thing  to  tire, 
and  as  we  say  now,  to  jade  any  thing  too  far. 
As  for  jest,  there  be  certain  things  which 
ought  to  be  privileged  from  it;  namely,  reli- 
gion, matters  of  state,  great  persons,  any 
man's  present  business  of  importance,  and 
any  case  that  deserveth  pity;  yet  there  be 
some  that  think  their  wits  have  been  asleep, 
except  they  dart  out  somewhat  that  is  piquant, 
and  to  the  quick;  that  is  a  vein  which  would 
be  bridled; 

"  Faree,  poer,  stimnlit,  «t  ftrdo*  titere  lorit." 

And,  generally,  men  ought  to  find  the  differ- 
ence between  saltness  and  bitterness.  Cer- 
tainly, he  that  hath  a  satirical  vein,  as  he 
maketh  others  afraid  of  his  wit,  so  he  had 


OF    DISCOURSE.  159 

need  be  afraid  of  others'  memory.  He  that 
questioneth  much  shall  learn  much,  and  con- 
tent much;  but  especially  if  he  appl}  his 
questions  to  the  skill  of  the  persons  whom 
he  asketh;  for  he  shall  give  them  occasion 
to  please  themselves  in  speaking,  and  him- 
self shall  continually  gather  knowledge;  but 
let  his  questions  not  be  troublesome,  for  that 
is  fit  for  a  poser;  and  let  him  be  sure  to 
leave  other  men  their  turns  to  speak:  nay, 
if  there  be  any  that  would  reign  and  take  up 
all  the  time,  let  him  find  means  to  take  them 
off,  and  bring  others  on:  as  musicians  use  to 
do  with  those  that  dance  too  long  galliards. 
If  you  dissemble  sometimes  your  knowledge 
of  that  you  are  thought  to  know,  you  shall 
be  thought,  another  time,  to  know  that  you 
know  not.  Speech  of  a  man's  self  ougfct  to 
be  seldom,  and  well  chosen.  I  knew  one 
was  wont  to  say  in  scorn,  "  He  must  needs 
be  a  wise  man,  he  speaks  so  much  of  him- 
self:" and  there  is  but  one  case  wherein  a 
man  may  commend  himself  with  good  grace, 
and  that  is  in  commending  virtue  in  another, 
especially  if  it  be  such  a  virtue  whereunto 
himself  pretendeth.  Speech  of  touch  to- 
wards others  should  be  sparingly  used;  for 
discourse  ought  to  be  as  a  field,  without 
coming  home   to   any   man.     I    knew  two 


160  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

noblemen,  of  the  west  part  of  England, 
whereof  the  one  was  given  to  scoff,  but  kept 
ever  royal  cheer  in  his  house;  the  other 
would  ask  of  those  that  had  been  at  the 
other's  table,  "Tell  truly,  was  there  never 
a  flout  or  dry  blow  given?"  To  which  the 
guest  would  answer,  "Such  and  such  a  thing 
passed."  The  lord  would  say,  "i  thought  he 
would  mar  a  good  dinner."  Discretion  of 
speech  is  more  than  eloquence;  and  to  speak 
agreeably  to  him  with  whom  we  deal,  is 
more  than  to  speak  in  good  words,  or  in 
good  order.  A  good  continued  speech,  with- 
out a  good  speech  of  interlocution,  shews 
slowness;  and  a  good  reply,  or  second 
speech,  without  a  good  settled  speech, 
sheweth  shallowness  and  weakness.  As  we 
see  in  beasts,  that  those  that  are  weakest 
in  the  course,  are  yet  nimblest  in  the  turn; 
as  it  is  betwixt  the  greyhound  and  the  hare. 
To  use  too  many  circumstances,  ere  one 
come  to  the  matter,  is  wearisome;  to  use 
none  at  all,  is  blunt. 


XXXIV.    OF  PLANTATIONS. 

Plaittatioks  are  amongst  ancient,  primitive, 
and  heroical  works.     When  the  world  was 


OF  PLANTATIONS.  161 

young,  it  begat  more  children;  but  now  it  is 
old,  it  begets  fewer:  for  I  may  justly  account 
new  plantations  to  be  the  children  of  former 
kingdoms.  I  like  a  plantation  in  a  pure  soil; 
that  is,  where  people  are  not  displanted  to 
the  end  to  plant  in  others;  for  else  it  is 
rather  an  extirpation  than  a  plantation. 
Planting  of  countries  is  like  planting  of 
woods;  for  you  must  make  account  to  lose 
almost  twenty  years  profit,  and  expect  your 
recompense  in  the  end:  for  the  principal 
thing  that  hath  been  the  destruction  of  most 
plantations,  hath  been  the  base  and  hasty 
drawing  of  profit  in  the  first  years.  It  is 
true,  speedy  profit  is  not  to  be  neglected,  as 
far  as  it  may  stand  with  the  good  of  the  plan- 
tation, but  no  farther.  It  is  a  shameful  and 
unblessed  thing  to  take  the  scum  of  people 
and  wicked  condemned  men,  to  be  the  peo- 
ple with  whom  you  plant;  and  not  only  so, 
but  it  spoileth  the  plantation;  for  they  will 
ever  live  like  rogues,  and  not  fall  to  work,  but 
be  lazy,  and  do  mischief,  and  spend  victuals, 
and  be  quickly  weary,  and  then  certify  over 
to  their  country  to  the  discredit  of  the  plan- 
tation. The  people  wherewith  you  plant 
ought  to  be  gardeners,  ploughm'en,  labour- 
ers, smiths,  carpenters,  joiners,  fishermen, 
fowlers,  with  some  few  apothecaries,  sur- 


162  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

geons,  cooks,  and  bakers.  In  a  country  of 
plantation,  first  look  about  what  kind  of  vic- 
tual the  country  yields  of  itself  to  hand;  as 
chesnuts,  walnuts,  pine-apples,  olives,  dates, 
plums,  cherries,  wild  honey,  and  the  like, 
and  make  use  of  them.  Then  consider  what 
victual,  or  esculent  things  there  are,  which 
grow  speedily,  and  within  the  year;  as  pars- 
nips, carrots,  turnips,  onions,  radish,  arti- 
chokes of  Jerusalem,  maize,  and  the  like: 
for  wheat,  barley,  and  oats,  they  ask  too 
much  labour;  but  with  pease  and  beans  you 
may  begin,  both  because  they  ask  less  la- 
bour, and  because  they  serve  for  meat  as 
well  as  for  bread  ;  and  of  rice  likewise 
Cometh  a  great  increase,  and  it  is  a  kind  of 
meat.  Above  all,  there  ought  to  be  brought 
store  of  biscuit,  oatmeal,  flour,  meal,  and 
the  like,  in  the  beginning,  till  bread  may  be 
had.  For  beasts  or  birds,  take  chiefly  such 
as  are  least  subject  to  diseases,  and  multiply 
fastest;  as  swine,  goats,  cocks,  hens,  tur- 
keys, geese,  house-doves,  and  the  like. 
The  victual  in  plantations  ought  to  be  ex- 
pended almost  as  in  a  besieged  town;  that 
is,  with  certain  allowance:  and  let  the  main 
part  of  the  ground  employed  to  gardens  or 
corn,  be  to  a  common  stock;  and  to  be  laid 
in,  and  stored  up,  and  then  delivered  out  in 


OF  PLANTATIONS.  163 

proportion;  besides  some  spots  of  ground 
that  any  particular  person  will  manure  for 
his  own  private  use.  Consider,  likewise, 
what  commodities  the  soil  where  the  planta- 
tion is,  doth  naturally  yield,  that  they  may 
some  way  help  to  defray  the  charge  of  the 
plantation;  so  it  be  not,  as  was  said,  to  the 
untimely  prejudice  of  the  main  business,  as 
it  hath  fared  with  tobacco  in  Virginia.  Wood 
commonly  aboundeth  but  too  much;  and 
therefore  timber  is  fit  to  be  one.  If  there 
be  iron  ore,  and  streams  whereupon  to  set 
the  mills,  iron  is  a  brave  commodity  where 
wood  aboundeth.  Making  of  bay-salt,  if  the 
climate  be  proper  for  it,  would  be  put  in 
experience:  growing  silk  likewise,  if  any  be, 
is  a  likely  commodity:  pitch  and  tar,  where 
store  of  firs  and  pines  are,  will  not  fail;  so 
drugs  and  sweet  woods,  where  they  are, 
cannot  but  yield  great  profit  ;  soap-ashes 
likewise,  and  other  things  that  may  be 
thought  of;  but  moil  not  too  much  under 
ground,  for  the  hope  of  mines  is  very  uncer- 
tain, and  useth  to  make  the  planters  lazy  in 
otlier  things.  For  government,  let  it  be  in 
the  hands  of  one,  assisted  with  some  coun- 
sel; and  let  them  have  commission  to  ex- 
ercise martial  laws,  with  some  limitation; 
and,  above  all,  let  men  make  that  profit  of 


164  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

being  in  the  wilderness,  as  they  have  God 
always,  and  his  service  before  their  eyes: 
let  not  the  government  of  the  plantation  de- 
pend upon  too  many  counsellors  and  under- 
takers in  the  country  that  planteth,  but  upon 
a  temperate  number;  and  let  those  be  ra- 
ther noblemen  and  gentlemen,  than  mer- 
chants; for  they  look  ever  to  the  present 
gain:  let  there  be  freedoms  from  custom,  till 
the  plantation  be  of  strength ;  and  notonly  free- 
dom from  custom,  but  freedom  to  carry  their 
commodities  where  they  may  make  their 
best  of  them,  except  there  be  some  special 
cause  of  caution.  Cram  not  in  people,  by 
sending  too  fast  company  after  company;  but 
rather  hearken  how  they  waste,  and  send 
supplies  proportionably;  but  so  as  the  num- 
ber may  live  well  in  the  plantation,  and  not 
by  surcharge  be  in  penury.  It  hath  been  a 
great  endangering  to  the  health  of  some 
plantations,  that  they  have  built  nlong  the 
sea  and  rivers,  in  marish  and  unwholesome 
grounds:  therefore,  though  yon  begin  there 
to  avoid  carriage  and  other  like  discommodi- 
ties, yet  build  still  rather  upwards  from  the 
stream,  than  along.  It  concerneth  likewise 
the  health  of  the  plantation  that  they  have 
goo(i  store  of  salt  with  them,  that  they  may 
use  it  in  their  victuals  when  it  shall  be  neces- 


OF  RICHES.  165 

sary.  If  you  plant  where  savages  are,  do 
not  only  entertain  them  with  trifles  and 
gingles,  but  use  them  justly  and  graciously, 
with  sufficient  guard  nevertheless;  and  do 
not  win  their  favour  by  helping  them  to  in- 
vade their  enemies,  but  for  their  defence  it 
is  not  amiss;  and  send  oft  of  them  over  to 
the  country  that  plants,  that  they  may  see 
a  better  condition  than  their  own,  and  com- 
mend it  whexj  they  return.  When  the  plan- 
tation grows  to  strength,  then  it  is  time  to 
plant  with  women  as  well  as  with  men;  that 
the  plantation  may  spread  into  generations, 
and  not  be  ever  pierced  from  without.  It 
is  the  sinfullest  thing  in  the  world  to  forsake 
or  destitute  a  plantation  once  in  forwardness; 
for,  besides  the  dishonour,  it  is  the  guilti- 
ness of  blood  of  many  commiserable  persons. 


XXXV.    OF  RICHES. 

I  CANNOT  call  riches  better  than  the  baggage 
of  virtue;  the  Roman  word  is  better,  "im- 
pedimenta;" for  as  the  baggage  is  to  an 
army,  so  is  riches  to  virtue;  it  cannot  be 
spared  nor  left  behind,  but  it  hindereth  the 
march;  3'^ea,  and  the  care  of  it  sometimes 
loseth  or  disturbeth  the  victory;  of  great 


td6  I.ORD  bacon's  essays. 

riches  there  is  no  real  use,  except  it  be  ia 
the  distribution;  the  rest  is  but  conceit;  so 
saith  Solonoon,  "Where  much  is,  there  are 
many  to  consume  it  ;  and  what  hath  the 
owner  but  the  sight  of  it  with  his  eyes?" 
The  personal  fruition  in  any  man  cannot 
reach  to  feel  great  riches:  there  is  a  custody 
of  them;  or  a  power  of  dole  and  donative  of 
them;  or  a  fame  of  them  ;  but  no  solid 
use  to  the  owner.  Do  you  not  see  what 
feigned  prices  are  set  upon  little  stones 
and  rarities?  and  what  works  of  ostenta- 
tion are  undertaken,  because  there  might 
seem  to  be  some  use  of  great  riches  ? 
But  then  you  will  say,  they  may  be  of  use 
to  buy  men  out  of  dangers  or  troubles;  as 
Solomon  saith,  "Riches  are  as  a  strong  hold 
in  the  imagination  of  the  rich  man:"  but 
this  is  excellently  expressed,  that  it  is  in 
imagination,  and  not  always  in  fact:  for,  cer- 
tainly, great  riches  have  sold  more  men 
than  they  have  bought  out.  Seek  not 
proud  riches,  but  such  as  thou  mayest  get 
justly,  use  soberly,  distribute  cheerfully, 
and  leave  contentedly;  yet  have  no  abstract 
or  friarly  contempt  of  them;  but  distinguish, 
as  Cicero  saith  well  of  Rabirius  Postumus, 
"in  studio  rei  amplificandae  apparebat,  non 
avaritiae  praedam,  sed  instrumentum  bonitati 
quaeri."    Hearken  also  to  Solomon,  and  be- 


OF  RSCHES.  IGt 

ware  of  hasty  gathering  of  riches;  "Qui  fes- 
tinat  ad  divitias,  non  erit  insons."  The 
poets  feign,  that  when  Plutus  (which  is 
riches)  is  sent  from  Jupiter,  he  Hmps,  and 
goes  slowly;  but  when  he  is  sent  froai  Pluto, 
he  runs,  and  is  swift  of  foot;  meaning,  that 
riches  gotten  by  good  means  and  just  labour 
pace  slowly;  but  when  they  come  by  the 
death  of  others  (as  by  the  course  of  inherit- 
ance, testaments,  and  the  Hke),  they  come 
tumbling  upon  a  man:  but  it  might  be  appli- 
ed likewise  to  Pluto,  taking  him  for  the 
devil:  for  when  riches  come  from  the  devil 
(as  by  fraud  and  oppression,  and  unjust 
means),  they  come  upon  speed.  The  ways 
to  enrich  are  many,  and  most  of  them  fool: 
parsimony  is  one  of  the  best,  and  yet  is  not 
innocent;  for  it  withholdeth  men  from  works 
of  liberality  and  charity.  The  improvement 
of  the  ground  is  the  most  natural  obtaining 
of  riches;  for  it  is  our  great  mother's  bless- 
ing, the  earth;  but  it  is  slow:  and  yet,  where 
men  of  great  wealth  do  stoop  to  husbandry, 
it  multiplieth  riches  exceedingly.  I  knew 
a  nobleman  of  England  that  had  the  greatest 
audits  of  any  man  in  my  time,  a  great  gra- 
zier, a  great  sheep  master,  a  great  timber 
man,  a  great  collier,  a  great  corn  master, 
a  great  lead  mao,  and  so  of  iron,  and  a  duiu- 


168  LORD  BAC0?«'S  ESSAYS. 

ber  of  the  like  points  of  husbandry;  so  as 
the  earth  seemed  a  sea  to  him  in  respect 
of  the  perpetual  importation.  It  was  truly 
observed  by  one,  "That  himself  came  very 
hardly  to  little  riches,  and  very  easily  to 
great  riches;"  for  when  a  man's  stock  is  come 
to  that,  that  he  can  expect  the  prime  of  mar- 
kets, and  overcome  those  bargains,  which 
for  their  greatness  are  few  men's  money, 
and  be  partner  in  the  industries  of  younger 
men,  he  cannot  but  increase  mainly.  The 
gains  of  ordinary  trades  and  vocations  are 
honest,  and  furthered  by  two  things,  chiefly, 
by  diligence,  and  by  a  good  name  for  gdod 
and  fair  dealing;  but  the  gains  of  bargains 
are  of  a  more  doubtful  nature,  when  men 
shall  wait  upon  others'  necessity;  broke  by 
servants  and  instruments  to  draw  them  on; 
put  off  others  cunningly  that  would  be  bet- 
ter chapmen,  and  the  like  practices,  which 
are  crafty  and  naughty:  as  for  the  chopping 
of  bargains,  when  a  man  buys  not  to  hold, 
but  to  sell  over  again,  that  commonly  grind- 
eth  double,  both  upon  the  seller  and  upon 
the  buyer.  Sharings  do  greatly  enrich,  if 
the  hands  be  well  chosen  that  are  trusted. 
Usury  is  the  certainest  means  of  gain,  though 
one  of  the  worst,  as  that  whereby  a  man 
doth  eat  his  bread,  '*in  sudore  vultus  alie- 


OF    RICHES.  169 

ni;"  and  besides,  doth  plough  upon  Sun- 
days: but  yet  certain  though  it  be,  it  hath 
flaws;  for  that  the  scriveners  and  brokers 
do  value  unsound  men  to  serve  their  own 
turn.  The  fortune,  in  being  the  first  in  an 
invention,  or  in  a  privilege,  doth  cause 
sometimes  a  wonderful  overgrowth  in  riches, 
as  it  was  with  the  first  sugar  man  in  the 
Canaries:  therefore,  if  a  man  can  play  the 
true  logician,  to  have  as  well  judgment  as 
invention,  be  may  do  great  matters,  es- 
pecially if  the  times  be  fit:  he  that  resteth 
upon  gains  certain,  shall  hardly  grow  to 
great  riches;  and  he  that  puts  all  upon  ad- 
ventures, doth  oftentimes  break  and  come 
to  poverty:  it  is  good,  therefore,  to  guard 
adventures  with  certainties  that  may  uphold 
losses.  Monopolies,  and  coemption  of  wares 
for  re-sale,  where  they  are  not  restrained, 
are  great  means  to  enrich;  especially  if  the 
party  have  intelligence  what  things  are  like 
to  come  into  request,  and  so  store  himself 
.  beforehand.  Riches  gotten  by  service, 
though  it  be  of  the  best  rise,  yet  when 
they  are  gotten  by  flattery,  feeding  humours, 
and  other  servile  conditions,  they  may  be 
placed  amongst  the  worst.  As  for  fishing 
for  testaments  and  executorships  (as  Taci- 
tus saith  of  Seneca,  "  testamenta  et  orbos 


170  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

tamquam  indagine  capi/')  it  is  yet  worse,  by 
how  much  men  submit  themselves  to  meaner 
persons  thao  in  service.  Beheve  not  much 
them  that  seem  to  despise  riches,  for  they 
despise  them  that  despair  of  them;  and  none 
worse  when  they  come  to  them.  Be  not 
penny-wise;  riches  have  wings,  and  some- 
times they  fly  away  of  themselves,  some- 
times they  must  be  set  flying  to  bring  in 
more.  Men  leave  their  riches  either  to 
their  kindred,  or  to  the  public;  and  mode- 
rate portions  prosper  best  in  both.  A  great 
estate  left  to  an  heir,  is  as  a  lure  to  all  the 
birds  of  prey  round  about  to  seize  on  him, 
if  he  be  not  the  better  established  in  years 
and  judgment:  likewise,  glorious  gifts  arid 
foundations  are  like  sacrifices  without  salt; 
and  but  the  painted  sepulchres  of  alms, 
which  soon  will  putrefy  and  corrupt  in- 
wardly: therefore  measure  not  thine  ad- 
vancements by  quantity,  but  frame  them  by 
measure:  and  defer  not  charities  till  death; 
for,  certainly,  it  a  man  weigh  it  rightly,  he 
that  doth  so,  is  rather  liberal  of  another 
man's  than  of  his  own. 


OF    PROPHECIES.  17! 


XXXVI.      OF    PROPHECIES. 

I  MEAPf  not  to  speak  of  divine  prophecies, 
nor  of  heathen  oracles,  nor  of  natural  pre- 
dictions; but  only  of  prophecies  that  have 
been  of  certain  memory,  and  from  hidden 
causes.  Saith  the  Pythonissa  to  Saul,  "To- 
morrow thou  and  thy  sons  shall  be  with 
me."  Virgil  hath  these  verses  from  Ho- 
mer: 

**  At  domus  Moex  cunctU  dominabitnr  orii, 

£t  nati  natorum,  et  qui  nascentur  ab  illis."    JSn.  iii.  07. 

A  prophecy  as  it  seems  of  the  Roman 
empire.  Seneca  the  tragedian  hath  these 
verses: 


-'•  VenieDt  anirit 


Sxcula  leris,  qaibus  Oceanus 
Vmcula  rerum  laxet,  et  ingens 
Pateat  Tfllus,  'i'iphysqtie  iiovos 
Detegat  orbes ;  nee  sit  t«njs 
intima  Thule :" 


a  prophecy  of  the  discovery  of  America. 
The  daughter  of  Polycrates  dreamed  that 
Jupiter  bathed  her  falher,  and  Apollo  an- 
ointed him;  and  it  came  to  pass  that  he  was 
crucified  in  an  open  place,  where  the  sun 


172  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

made  his  body  run  with  sweat,  and  the  rain 
washed  it.  Philip  of  Macedon  dreamed  he 
sealed  up  his  wife's  belly;  whereby  he  did 
expound  it,  that  his  wife  should  be  Darren; 
but  Aristander  the  soothsayer  told  him  his 
wife  was  with  child,  because  men  do  not, 
use  to  seal  vessels  that  are  empty.  A  phan- 
tom that  appeared  to  M.  Brutus  in  his  tent, 
said  to  him,  "Philippis  iterum  me  videbis." 
Tiberius  said  to  Gaiba,  "Tu  quoque,  Galba, 
degustabis  imperium."  In  Vespasian's  time 
there  went  a  prophecy  in  the  Eiist,  that 
those  that  should  come  forth  of  Judea, 
should  reign  over  the  world;  which  though 
it  may  be  was  meant  of  our  Saviour,  yet 
Tacitus  expounds  it  of  Vespasian.  Domi- 
tian  dreamed,  the  night  before  he  was  slain, 
that  a  golden  head  was  growing  out  of  the 
nape  of  his  neck;  and  indeed  the  succession 
that  followed  him,  for  many  years,  made 
golden  times.  Henry  the  Sixth  of  England 
said  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  when  he  was  a 
lad,  and  gave  him  water,  "This  is  the  lad 
that  shall  enjoy  the  crown  for  which  we 
strive."  When  I  was  in  France,  I  heard 
from  one  Dr.  Pena,  that  the  queen  mother, 
who  was  given  to  curious  arts,  caused  the 
king  her  husband's  nativity  to  be  calculated 
under  a  false  name;  and  the  astrologer  gave 


OF    PROFHECIES.  173 

a  judgment,  that  he  should  be  killed  in  a 
duel;  at  which  the  queen  laughed,  thinking 
her  husband  to  be  above  challenges  and 
duels:  but  he  was  slain  upon  a  course  at 
tilt,  the  splinters  of  the  staff  of  Montgomery 
going  in  at  his  beaver.  The  trivial  pro- 
phecy which  I  heard  when  I  was  a  child, 
and  queen  Elizabeth  was  in  the  flower  of 
her  years,  was, 

"  When  bempe  is  »pon 
ISogland's  dme :" 

whereby  it  was  generally  conceived,  that 
after  the  princes  had  reigned  which  had  the 
principal  letters  of  that  word  hernpe  (which 
were  Henry,  Edward,  Mary,  Philip,  and 
Elizabeth),  England  should  come  to  ifher 
confusion;  which,  thanks  be  to  God,  is  veri- 
fied in  the  change  of  the  name;  for  the  king's 
style  is  now  no  more  of  England  but  of 
Britain.  There  was  also  another  prophecy 
before  the  year  of  eighty-eight,  which  I  do 
not  well  understand. 

"  Theie  ^lall  be  leen  upon  a  day, 
Between  the  Baugfa  and  tbe  May, 
The  black  fleet  of  Norway. 
When  that  is  eome  and  gone, 

£nglaiid  build  houses  of  lime  and  stone,  .: 

For  »ttes  wan  shall  you  hare  nooe." 
VOL.    V.  12 


1T4  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

It  was  generally  conceived  to  be  meant  of 
the  Spanish  fleet  that  came  in  eighty-eight: 
for  that  the  king  of  Spain's  surname,  as  they 
say,  is  Norway.  The  prediction  of  Regi- 
omontanus, 

"  Octogesiniat  octants  mirabilis  umai,** 

was  thought  likewise  accomplished  in  the 
sending  of  that  great  fleet,  being  the  greatest 
in  strength,  though  not  in  number,  of  all 
that  ever  swam  upon  the  sea. '  As  for 
Cleon's  dream,  I  think  it  was  a  jest;  it  was, 
that  he  was  devoured  of  a  long  dragon;  and 
it  was  expounded  of  a  maker  of  sausages, 
that  troubled  him  exceedingly.  There  are 
numbers  of  the  like  kind:  especially  if  you 
include  dreams,  and  predictions  of  astrology; 
but  I  have  set  down  these  few  only  of  cer- 
tain credit,  for  example.  My  judgment  is, 
that  they  ought  all  to  be  despised,  and  ought 
to  serve  but  for  winter  talk  by  the  fire-side: 
though  when  I  say  despised,  I  mean  it  as  for 
belief;  for  otherwise,  the  spreading  or  pub- 
lishing of  them  is  in  no  sort  to  be  despised, 
for  they  have  done  much  mischief;  and  I 
see  many  severe  laws  made  to  suppress 
them.  That  that  hath  given  them  grace,  and 
some    credit,    consisteth    in    three  things. 


OP    AMBITIOBK  173 

First,  that  men  mark  when  they  hit,  and 
never  mark  when  they  miss;  as  they  do, 
generally,  also  of  dreams.  The  second  is, 
that  probable  conjectures,  or  obscure  tradi- 
tions, many  times  turn  themselves  into  pro- 
phecies: while  the  nature  of  man,  which 
coveteth  divination,  thinks  it  no  peril  to 
foretell  that  which  indeed  they  do  but  col- 
lect: as  that  of  Seneca's  verse;  for  so  much 
was  then  subject  to  demonstration,  that  the 
globe  of  the.  earth  had  great  parts  beyond 
the  Atlantic,  which  might  be  probably  con- 
ceived not  to  be  all  sea:  and  adding  thereto 
the  tradition  in  Plato's  Timaeus,  and  his  At- 
lanticus,  it  might  encourage  one  to  turn  it 
to  a  prediction.  The  third  and  last  (which 
is  the  great  one),  is,  that  almost  all  of  them, 
being  infinite  in  number,  have  been  impos- 
tures, and  by  idle  and  crafty  brains,  merely 
contrived  and  feigned,  after  the  event  past. 


XXXVII.      OF    AMBITION. 

Ambition  is  like  choler,  which  is  an  huroonr 
that  maketh  men  active,  earnest,  full  of 
alacrity,  and  stirring,  if  it  be  not  stopped: 
but  if  it  be  stopped,  and  cannot  have  its 
way,  it  becometh  a  dust,  and  thereby 
malign  and   venomous:   so  ambitious   m«n, 


176  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

if  they  find  the  way  open  for  their  ris- 
ing, and  still  get  forward,  they  are  rather 
busy  than  dangerous;  but  if  they  be  check- 
ed in  their  desires,  they  become  secretly 
discontent,  and  look  upon  men  and  mat- 
ters with  an  evil  eye,  and  are  best  pleas- 
ed when  things  go  backward;  which  is  the 
worst  property  in  a  servant  of  a  prince  or 
state:  therefore  it  is  good  for  princes,  if 
they  use  ambitious  men,  to  handle  it  so,  as 
they  be  still  progressive,  and  not  retrograde, 
which,  because  it  cannot  be  without  incon- 
yenience,  it  is  good  not  to  use  such  na- 
tures at  all;  for  if  they  rise  not  with  their 
service,,  they  will  take  order  to  make 
their  service  fall  with  them.  But  since 
we  have  said,  it  were  good  not  to  use  men 
of  ambitious  natures,  except  it  be  upon  ne- 
cessity, it  is  fit  we  speak  in  \vhat  cases  they 
are  of  necessity.  Good  commanders  in  the 
wars  must  be  taken ;  be  they  never  so  ambi- 
tious; for  the  use  of  their  service  dispenseth 
with  the  rest;  and  to  take  a  soldier  without 
ambition,  is  to  pull  ofl'  his  spurs.  There  is 
also  groat  use  of  ambitious  men  in  being 
screens  to  princes  in  matters  of  danger  and 
envy;  lor  no  man  will  take  that  part  ex- 
cept he  be  like  a  seeled  dove,  that  mounts 
ana  mounts,  because  he   cannot  see  about 


OF    AMBITION.  177 

him.  There  is  use  also  of  ambitious  men 
in  pulling  down  the  greatness  of  any  subject 
that  overtops;  as  Tiberius  used  Macro  in 
the  pulling  down  of  Sejanus.  Since,  there- 
fore, they  must  be  used  in  such  cases,  there 
resteth  to  speak  how  they  are  to  be  rid- 
dled, that  they  may  be  less  dangerous:  there 
is  less  danger  of  them  if  they  be  of  mean 
birth,  than  if  they  be  noble;  and  if  they  be 
rather  harsh  of  nature,  than  gracious  and 
popular:  and  if  they  be  rather  new  raised, 
than  growing  cunning  and  fortitied  in  their 
greatness.  It  is  counted  by  some  a  weak- 
ness in  princes  to  have  favourites;  but  it  in, 
of  all  others,  the  best  remedy  against  ambi- 
tious great  ones;  for  when  the  way  of  plea- 
suring and  displeasuring  lieth  by  the  fa- 
vourite, it  is  impossible  any  other  should  be 
over  great.  Another  means  to  curb  them  i?, 
to  balance  them  by  others  as  proud  as  they: 
but  then  there  must  be  some  middle  coun- 
sellors, to  keep  things  steady;  for  without 
that  ballast  the  ship  will  roll  too  much.  At 
the  least,  a  prince  may  animate  and  inure 
some  meaner  persons  to  be,  as  it  were, 
scourges  to  ambitious  men.  As  for  the  hav- 
ing of  them  obnoxious  to  ruin,  if  they  be  of 
fearful  natyres,  it  may  do  lyell;  but  if  they 


178  LORD  bacon''s  essays. 

be  stout  and  daring,  it  may  precipitate  their 
designs,  and  prove  dangerous.  As  for  the 
pulling  of  them  down,  if  the  affairs  require 
it,  and  that  it  may  not  be  done  with  safe- 
ty suddenly,  the  only  way  is,  thft  interchange 
continually  of  favours  and  disgraces,  where- 
by they  may  not  know  what  to  expect,  and 
be,  as  it  were,  in  a  wood.  Of  ambitions,  it 
is  less  harmful  the  ambition  to  prevail  in 
great  things,  than  that  other  to  appear  in 
every  thing;  for  that  breeds  confusion,  and 
mars  business:  but  yet  it  is  less  danger  to 
have  an  ambitious  man  stirring  in  business, 
than  great  in  dependences.  He  that  seeketh 
to  be  eminent  among  able  men,  hath  a 
great  task;  but  that  is  ever  good  for  the 
public:  but  he  that  plots  to  be  the  only 
figure  amongst  ciphers,  is  the  decay  of  a 
whole  age.  Honour  hath  three  things  in  it; 
the  vantage  ground  to  do  good;  the  approach 
to  kings  and  principal  persons;  and  the  rais- 
ing of  a  man's  own  fortunes.  He  that  hath 
the  best  of  these  intentions,  when  he  as- 
pireth,  is  an  honest  man;  and  that  prince, 
that  can  discern  of  these  intentions  in  ano- 
ther that  aspireth,  is  a  wise  prince.  Gene- 
rally, let  princes  and  states  choose  such 
ministers  as  are  more  sensible  of  duty  than 


OF  MASQUES  ANP  TRIUMPHS.     179 

of  rising,  and  such  as  love  business  rather 
upon  conscience  than  upon  bravery;  and  let 
t|ietn  discern  a  busy  nature  from  a  willing 
mind. 


XXXVIII.      OF  MASCtUES  ATfD  TRIUMPHS. 

These  things  are  but  toys  to  come  amongst 
such  serious  observations;  but  yet,  since 
princes  will  have  such  things,  it  is  better 
they  should  be  graced  with  elegancy,  than 
daubed  with  cost.  Dancing  to  song  is  a 
thing  of  great  state  and  pleasure.  I  under- 
stand it  that  the  song  be  in  quire,  placed 
aloft,  and  accompanied  with  some  broken 
music;  and  the  ditty  fitted  to  the  device. 
Acting  in  song,  especially  in  dialogues,  hath 
an  extreme  good  grace;  I  say  acting,  not 
dancing  (for  that  is  a  mean  and  vulgar  thing); 
and  the  voices  of  the  dialogue  would  be  strong 
and  manly,  (a  bass  and  a  tenor;  no  treble,) 
and  the  ditty  high  and  tragical,  not  nice  or 
dainty.  Several  quires  placed  one  over  against 
another,  and  taking  the  voice  by  catches 
anthemvvise,  give  great  pleasure.  Turning 
dances  into  figure  is  a  childish  curiosity;  and 
generally  let  it  be  noted,  that  those  things 
which  I  here  set  down  are  such  as  do  natu- 


180  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

rally  take  the  sense,  and  not  respect  petty 
wonderments.  It  is  true,  the  alterations 
of  scenes,  so  it  be  quietly  and  without 
noise,  are  things  of  great  beauty  and  plea- 
sure; for  they  feed  and  relieve  the  eye  be- 
fore it  be  full  of  the  same  object.  Let  the 
scenes  abound  with  light,  especially  colour- 
ed and  varied;  and  let  the  masquers,  or  any 
other  that  are  to  come  down  from  the  scene, 
have  some  motions  upon  the  scene  itself  be- 
fore their  coming  down;  for  it  draws  the  eye 
strangely,  and  ma-kes  it  with  great  pleasure 
to  desire  to  see  that  it  cannot  perfectly  dis- 
cern. Let  the  songs  be  loud  and  cheerful, 
and  not  chirpings  or  pulings:  let  the  music 
likewise  be  sharp  and  loud,  and  well  placed. 
The  colours  that  shew  best  by  candle-light 
are  white,  carnation,  and  a  kind  of  sea- 
water  green;  and  ouches,  or  spangs,  as  they 
are  of  no  great  cost,  so  they  are  of  most 
glory.  As  for  rich  embroidery,  it  is  lost 
and  not  discerned.  Let  the  suits  of  the 
masquers  be  graceful,  and  such  as  become 
the  person  when  the  vizards  are  off;  not  af- 
ter examples  of  known  attires;  Turks,  sol- 
diers, mariners,  and  the  like.  Let  anti- 
masques  not  be  long;  they  have  been  com- 
monly of  fools,  satyrs,  baboons,  wild  men, 
antics,    beasts,    spirits,   witches,   Ethiopes, 


OF    NATURE    IS   MEV.  181 

pigmies,  turquets,  nymphs,  rustics,  Cupids, 
statues  moving,  and  the  like.  As  for  angels, 
it  is  not  comical  enough  to  put  them  in  anti- 
masques:  and  any  thing  that  is  hideous,  as 
devils,  giants,  ^,  on  the  other  side,  as  unfit; 
but  chiefly,  let  the  music  of  them  be  recrea- 
tive, and  with  some  strange  changes.  Some 
sweet  odours  suddenly  coming  forth,  without 
any  drops  falling,  are,  in  such  a  company  as 
there  is  steam  and  heat,  things  of  great 
pleasure  and  refreshment.  Double  masques, 
one  of  men,  another  of  ladies,  addeth  state 
and  variety;  but  all  is  nothing,  except  the 
room  be  kept  clean  and  neat. 

For  justs,  and  tourneys,  and  barriers, 
the  glories  of  them  are  chiefly  in  the  cha- 
riots, wherein  the  challengers  make  their 
entry;  especially  if  they  be  drawn  with 
strange  beasts:  as  lions,  bears,  camels,  and 
the  like;  or  in  the  devices  of  their  entrance, 
or  in  bravery  of  their  liveries,  or  in  the 
goodly  furniture  of  their  horses  and  armoar. 
But  enough  of  these  toys. 


XXXIX.       OF    NATURE    IN    MEN. 

Nature  is  often  hidden,  sometimes    over- 
come, seldom  extinguished.     Force  maketb 


182  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

nature  more  violent  in  the  return;  doctrine 
and  discourse  maketh  nature  less  importune; 
but  custom  only  doth  alter  and  subdue  na- 
ture. He  that  seeketh  victory  over  his  na- 
ture, let  him  not  set  himself  too  great  nor 
too  small  tasks;  for  the  tirst  will  make  him 
dejected  by  often  failing,  and  the  second 
will  make  him  a  small  proceeder,  thoueh  by 
often  prevailing:  and  at  the  first,  let  him 
practise  with  helps,  as  swimmers  do  with 
bladders,  or  rushes;  but,  after  a  time,  let 
him  practise  with  disadvantages,  as  dancers 
do  with  thick  shoes;  for  it  breeds  great  per- 
fection if  the  practice  be  harder  than  the 
use.  Where  nature  is  mighty,  and  there- 
fore the  victory  hard,  the  degrees  had  need 
be,  first  to  stay  and  arrest  nature  in  time; 
like  to  him  that  would  say  over  the  four  and 
twentv  letters  when  he  was  angry;  then  to 
go  less  in  quantity:  as  if  one  should,  in  for- 
bearing wine,  come  from  drinking  healths 
to  a  draught  at  a  meal;  and  lastly,  to  discon- 
tinue altogether:  but  if  a  man  have  the  for- 
titude and  resolution  to  enfranchise  himself 
at  once,  that  is  the  best: 

**  Optiniiu  ille  animi  Tindex  Itedenti*  peetat 
Viacula  qui  nipit,  dedeluitque  leniel." 


OF    NATURE    IN    MEN.  183 

Neither  is  the  ancient  rule  amiss,  to  bend 
nature  as  a  wand,  to  a  contrary  extreme, 
whereby  to  set  it  right;  understnnding  it 
where  the  contrary  extreme  is  no  vice. 
Let  not  a  man  force  a  habit  upon  him- 
self with  a  perpetual  continuance,  but 
with  some  intermission;  for  both  the 
pause  reinforceth  the  new  onset:  and,  if  a 
man  that  is  not  perfect  be  ever  in  practice, 
he  shall  as  well  practise  his  errors  as  his 
abilities,  and  induce  one  habit  of  both;  and 
there  is  no  means  to  help  this  but  by  sea- 
sonable intermission:  but  let  not  a  man  trust 
his  victory  over  his  nature  too  far;  for  na- 
ture will  lie  buried  a  great  time,  and  yet  re- 
vive upon  the  occasion,  or  temptation;  like 
as  it  was  with  iEsop's  damsel,  turned  from 
a  cat  to  a  woman,  who  sat  very  demurely  at 
the  board's  end  till  a  mouse  ran  before  her: 
therefore,  let  a  man  either  avoid  the  occa- 
sion altogether,  or  put  himself  often  to  it, 
that  he  may  be  little  moved  with  it.  A 
man's  nature  is  best  perceived  in  pri- 
vateness;  for  there  is  no  aflfectation  in 
passion;  for  that  putteth  a  man  out  of 
his  precepts,  and  in  a  new  case  or  ex- 
periment, for  there  custom  leaveth  him. 
They  are  happy  men  whose  natures  sort 
with  their  yoc^tioDS;    otherwise  they  may 


184  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

say,  "multura  incola  fuit  anima  mea,"  when 
they  converse  in  those  things  they  do  not 
affect.  In  studies,  whatsoever  a  man  com- 
inandeth  upon  himself,  let  him  set  hours  for 
it;  but  whatsoever  is  agreeable  to  his  nature, 
let  him  take  no  care  for  any  set  times;  for 
his  thoughts  will  fly  to  it  of  themselves,  so 
as  the  spaces  of  other  business  or  studies 
will  suffice.  A  man's  nature  runs  either  to 
herbs  or  weeds;  therefore  let  him  seasona- 
bly water  the  one,  and  destroy  the  other. 


XL.       OF    CUSTOM,  AND    EDUCATIOIT. 

Men's  thoughts  are  much  according  to  their 
inclination;  their  discourse  and  speeches 
according  to  their  learning  and  infused  opi- 
nions; but  their  deeds  are  after  as  they  have 
been  accustomed:  and,  therefore,  as  Machia- 
vel  well  noteth,  (though  in  an  ill-favoured 
instance),  there  is  no  trusting  to  the  force  of 
nature,  nor  to  the  bravery  of  words,  except 
it  be  corroborate  by  custom.  His  instance 
is,  that  for  the  achieving  of  a  desperate  con- 
spiracy, a  man  should  not  rest  upon  the 
fierceness  of  any  man's  nature,  or  his  reso- 
lute undertakings;  but  take  such  an  one  as 
hath  had  his  hands  formerly  in  blood:  but 


OF  CUSTOM  AND  EDUCATION.     185 

Machiavel  knew  not  of  a  friar  Clement,  nor 
a  Ravillac,  nor  a  Jaureguy,  nor  a  Baltazar 
Gerard;  yet  this  rule  holdeth  still,  that  na- 
ture, nor  the  engagement  of  words,  are  not 
so  forcible  as  custom.  Only  superstition  is 
now  so  well  advanced,  that  men  of  the  iirst 
blood  are  as  firm  as  butchers  by  occupation; 
and  votary  resolution  is  made  equipollent  to 
custom  even  in  matter  of  blood.  In  other 
things,  the  predominancy  of  custom  is  every 
where  visible,  insomuch  as  a  man  would 
wonder  to  hear  men  profess,  protest,  engage, 
give  great  words,  and  then  do  just  as  they 
have  done  before,  as  if  they  were  dead 
images  and  engines,  moved  only  by  the 
wheels  of  custom.  We  see  also  the  reign 
or  tyranny  of  custom,  what  it  is.  The  In- 
dians, (1  mean  the  sect  of  their  wise  men,) 
lay  themselves  quietly  upon  a  stack  of  wood, 
and  so  sacrifice  themselves  by  fire:  nay,  the 
wives  strive  to  be  burned  with  the  corpse 
of  their  husbands.  The  lads  of  Sparta,  of 
ancient  time,  were  wont  to  bo  scourged  upon 
the  altar  of  Diana,  without  so  much  as 
squeaking.  I  remember,  in  the  beginning 
of  queen  Elizabeth's  time  of  England,  an 
Irish  rebel  condemned,  put  up  a  petition  to 
the  deputy  that  he  might  be  hanged  in  a 
wyth,  and  not  in  a  halter,  because  it  had 


186  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

been  so  used  with  former  rebels.  There 
be  monks  in  Russia,  for  penance,  that  will 
sit  a  whole  night  in. a  vessel  of  water,  till 
they  be  engaged  with  hard  ice.  Many  ex- 
amples may  be  put  of  the  force  of  custom, 
both  upon  mind  and  body:  therefore,  since 
custom  is  the  principal  magistrate  of  man's 
life,  let  men  by  all  means  endeavour  to  ob- 
tain good  customs.  Certainly,  custom  is 
most  perfect  when  it  beginneth  in  young 
years:  this  we  call  education,  which  is,  in 
effect,  but  an  early  custom.  So  we  see,  in 
languages  the  tone  is  more  pliant  to  all  ex- 
pressions and  sounds,  the  joints  are  more 
supple  to  all  feats  of  activity  and  motions  in 
youth,  than  afterwards;  for  it  is  true,  the 
late  learners  cannot  so  well  take  up  the  ply, 
except  it  be  in  some  minds  that  have  not 
suffered  themselves  to  fix,  but  have  kept 
themselves  open  and  prepared  to  receive 
continual  amendment,  which  is  exceeding 
rare:  but  if  the  force  of  custom,  simple  and 
separate,  be  great,  the  force  of  custom, 
copulate  and  conjoined  and  collegiate,  is  far 
greater;  for  their  example  teacheth,  com- 
pany comforteth,  emulation  quick eneth,  glory 
raiseth;  so  as  in  such  places  the  force  of  cus- 
tom is  in  its  exaltation.  Certainly,  the  great 
multiplication  of  virtues  upon  human  nature 


OF    PORTCNE.  187 

resteth  upon  societies  well  ordaiaed  and  dis- 
ciplined; for  commonwealths  and  good  go- 
vernments do  nourish  virtue  grown,  but  do 
not  much  mend  the  seeds:  but  the  misery 
is,  that  the  most  effectual  means  are  now  ap- 
plied to  the  ends  least  to  be  desired. 


Xhl.       OF    FORTUNE. 

It  cannot  be  denied  but  outward  accidents 
conduce  much  to  fortune;  favour,  oppor- 
tunity, death  of  others,  occasion  fitting  vir- 
tue: but  chiefly,  the  mould  of  a  man's  for- 
tune is  in  his  own  hands:  "  Faber  quisque 
fortiinae  suae,"  saith  the  poet;  and  the  most 
frt'quent  of  external  causes  is,  that  the  folly 
of  one  man  is  the  fortune  of  another;  for  no 
man  prospers  so  suddenly  as  by  others' 
errors;  "  Serpens  nisi  serpentem  comederit 
non  fit  draco."  Overt  and  apparent  virtues 
bring  forth  praise;  but  there  be  secret  and 
hidden  virtues  that  bring  forth  fortune;  cer- 
tain deliveries  of  a  man's  self,  which  have 
no  name.  The  Spanish  name,  "  disembol- 
tura,"  partly  expresseth  them,  when  there 
be  not  stands  nor  restiffness  in  a  man's  na- 
ture, but  that  the  wheels  of  his  mind  keep 
way  with  the  wheels  of  his  fortune;  for  so 


188  LORD  bacon's  essats. 

Livy  (after  he  had  described  Cato  Major  in 
these  words,  "  In  illo  viro,  tantum  robur 
corporis  et  animi  fuit,  ut  quocumque  loco 
natus  esset,  fortunam  sibi  facturus  videre- 
tur,")  falleth  upon  that  he  had  "  versatile 
ingenium:"  therefore,  if  a  man  look  sharply 
and  attentively,  he  shall  see  fortune;  for 
though  she  be  blind,  yet  she  is  not  invisible. 
The  way  of  fortune  is  like  the  milky  way  in 
the  sky;  which  is  a  meeting,  or  knot,  of  a 
number  of  small  stars,  not  seen  asunder, 
but  giving  light  together:  so  are  there  a 
number  of  little  and  scarce  discerned  vir- 
tues, or  rather  faculties  and  customs,  that 
make  men  fortunate:  the  Italians  note  some 
of  them,  such  as  a  man  would  little  think. 
When  they  speak  of  one  that  cannot  do 
amiss,  they  will  throw  in  into  his  other  con- 
ditions, that  he  hath  "  Poco  di  raatto;"  and, 
certainly,  there  be  not  two  more  fortunate 
properties,  than  to  have  a  little  of  the  fool, 
and  not  too  much  of  the  honest:  therefore 
extreme  lovers  of  their  country,  or  masters, 
were  never  fortunate:  neither  can  they  be; 
for  when  a  man  placeth  his  thoughts  without 
himself,  he  goeth  not  his  own  way.  An  hasty 
fortune  maketh  an  euterprizer  and  remover; 
(the  French  hath  it  better,  "  entreprenant,'' 
or  "remuant;")  but  the  exercised  fortune 


OF    FORTUNE.  1^9 

maketh  the  able  man.  Fortune  is  to  be 
honoured  and  respected,  and  it  be  but  for 
her  daughter?,  Confidence  and  Reputation; 
for  those  two  felicity  breedeth;  the  first 
within  a  man's  self,  the  latter  in  others 
towards  him.  All  wise  men,  to  decline  the 
envy  of  their  own  virtues,  use  to  ascribe 
them  to  Providence  and  Fortune;  for  so 
they  may  the  better  assume  them:  and, 
besides,  it  is  greatness  in  a  man  to  be  the 
care  of  the  higher  powers.  So  Caesar  said 
to  the  pilot  in  the  tempest,  "  Caesarem  portas, 
et  fortunaro  ejus."  So  Sylla  chose  the  name 
of  "  Felix,"  and  not  of  "Magnus:"  and  it 
hath  been  noted,  that  those  who  ascribe 
openly  too  much  to  their  own  wisdom  and 
policy,  end  unfortunate.  It  is  written,  that 
Timotheus,  the  Athenian,  after  he  had,  in 
the  account  he  gave  to  the  state  of  his 
government,  often  interlaced  this  speech, 
"  and  in  this  fortune  had  no  part,"  never 
prospered  in  any  thing  he  undertook  after- 
wards. Certainly  there  be  whose  fortunes 
are  like  Homer's  verses,  that  have  a  slide 
and  easiness  more  than  the  verses  of  other 
poets;  as  Plutarch  saith  of  Timoleon's  for- 
tune in  respect  of  that  of  Agesilaus  or 
Epaminondas:  and  that  this  should  be,  uo 
doubt  it  is  much  in  a  man's  self. 

VOL.   T.  13 


190  LORD  EACOS'S   ESSAYS. 


XLII.     OF    USURY. 


Many  have  made  witty  invectives  against 
usury.  They  say  that  it  is  pity  the  devil  should 
have  God's  part,  which  is  the  tithe;  that  the 
usurer  is  the  greatest  sabbath-breaker,  be- 
cause his  plough  goeth  every  Sunday;  that 
the  usurer  is  the  drone  that  Virgil  speaketh 
of: 

"  IgnaTura  fucoc  pecus  a  pnesepibus  areent ;" 

that  the  usurer  breakelh  the  first  law  that 
was  made  for  mankind  after  the  fall,  which 
was,  "  in  sudore  vultus  tui  comedes  panem 
tuum;''  not,  "  in  sudore  vultus  alieni;"  that 
usurers  should  have  orange-tawny  bonnets, 
because  they  do  judaize;  that  it  is  against 
nature  for  money  to  beget  money,  and  the 
like.  I  say  this  only,  that  usury  is  a  "  con- 
cessum  propter  duritiem  cordis:"  for  since 
there  must  be  borrowing  and  lending,  and 
men  are  so  hard  of  heart  as  they  will  not 
lend  freely,  usury  must  be  permitted.  Some 
others  have  made  suspicious  and  cunning 
propositions  of  banks,  discovery  of  men's 
estates,  and  other  inventions;  but  few  have 
spoken  of  usury  usefully.     It  is  good  to  set 


OF    USURV.  191 

before  us  the  incommodities  and  commodi- 
ties of  usury,  that  the  good  may  be  either 
weighed  out,  or  culled  out:  and  warily  to 
provide,  that,  while  we  make  forth  to  that 
which  is  better,  we  meet  not  with  that  which 
is  worse. 

The  discommodities  -of  usury  are,  first, 
that  it  makes  fewer  merchants;  for  were  it 
not  for  this  lazy  trade  of  usury,  money 
would  not  lie  still,  but  it  would  in  great 
part  be  employed  upon  merchandizing,  which 
is  the  "  vena  porta"  of  wealth  in  a  state: 
the  second,  that  it  makes  poor  merchants; 
for  as  a  farmer  cannot  husband  his  ground 
so  well  if  he  sit  at  a  great  rent,  so  the  mer- 
chant cannot  drive  his  trade  so  well,  if  he  sit 
at  great  usury:  the  third  is  incident  to  the 
other  two;  and  that  is,  the  decay  of  customs 
of  kings,  or  estates,  which  ebb  or  flow  with 
merchandizing:  the  fourth,  that  it  bringeth 
the  treasure  of  a  realm  or  state  into  a  few 
hands;  for  the  usurer  being  at  certainties, 
and  the  other  at  uncertainties,  at  the  end  of 
the  game  most  of  the  money  will  be  in  the 
box;  and  ever  a  state  flourisheth  when  wealth 
is  more  equally  spread:  the  fifth,  that  it  beats 
down  the  price  of  land;  for  the  employment 
of  money  is  chiefly  either  merchandizing, 
or  purchasing;  and  usury  waylays  both:  the 


192  LORD    BACON  S    ESSAYii. 

sixth,  that  it  doth  dull  and  damp  all  industries^ 
improvements,  and  new  inventions,  wherein 
money  would  be  stirring,  if  it  were  not  for 
this  slug:  the  last,  that  it  is  trie  canker  and 
ruin  of  many  men's  estates,  which  in  pro- 
cess of  time  breeds  a  public  poverty. 

On  the  other  side,  the  commodities  of 
usury  are,  first,  that  howsoever  usury  in 
some  respect  hindereth  merchandizing,  yet 
in  some  other  it  advanceth  it;  for  it  is  cer- 
tain that  the  greatest  part  of  trade  is  driven 
by  young  merchants  upon  borrowing  at  inte- 
rest; so  as  if  the  usurer  either  call  in,  or 
keep  back  his  money,  there  will  ensue  pre- 
sently a  great  stand  of  tradi\'  the  second  is, 
that,  were  it  not  for  this  easy  borrowing 
upon  interest,  men's  necessities  would  draw 
upon  them  a  most  sudden  undoing,  in  that 
they  would  be  forced  to  sell  their  means, 
(be  it  lands  or  goods,)  far  under  foot,  and 
so,  whereas  usury  doth  but  gnaw  upon  them, 
bad  markets  would  swallow  them  quite  up. 
As  for  mortgaging,  or  pawning,  it  will  little 
mend  the  matter:  for  either  men  will  not 
take  pains  without  use,  or  if  they  do,  they 
will  look  precisely  for  the  forfeiture.  I  re- 
member a  cruel  monied  man  in  the  country, 
that  would  say,  "The  devil  take  this  usury, 
it  keeps  us  from  forfeitures  of  mortgages 


OF  USURY.  193 

and  bonds."  The  third  and  last  is,  that  it 
is  a  vanity  to  conceive  that  there  would  be 
ordinary  borrowing  without  profit;  and  it  is 
impossible  to  conceive  the  number  of  incon- 
veniences that  will  ensue,  if  borrowing  be 
cramped:  therefore  to  speak  of  the  abolish- 
ing of  usury  is  idle;  all  states  have  ever  had 
it  in  one  kind  or  rate  or  other:  so  as  that 
opinion  must  be  sent  to  Utopia. 

To  speak  now  of  the  reformation  and  re- 
glement  of  usury,  how  the  discommodities 
of  it  may  be  best  avoided,  and  the  commodi- 
ties retained.  It  appears,  by  the  balance  of 
commodities  and  discommodities  of  usury, 
two  things  are  to  be  reconciled;  the  one 
that  the  tooth  of  usury  be  grinded,  that  it 
bite  not  too  much;  the  other  that  there  be 
left  open  a  means  to  invite  monied  men  to 
lend  to  the  merchants,  for  the  continuing 
and  quickening  of  trade.  This  cannot  be 
done,  except  you  introduce  two  several  sorts 
of  usury,  a  less  and  a  greater;  for  if  you  re- 
duce usury  to  one  low  rate,  it  will  ease  the 
common  borrower,  but  the  merchant  will  be 
to  seek  for  money:  and  it  is  to  be  noted,  that 
the  trade  of  merchandize  being  the  most 
lucrative,  may  bear  usury  at  a  good  rate: 
other  contracts  not  so. 

To  serve  both  intentions,  the  way  would 


194  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

be  briefly  thus:  that  there  be  two  rates  of 
usury;  the  one  free  and  general  for  all;  the 
other  under  licence  only  to  certain  persons, 
and  in  certain  places  of  merchandizing. 
First,  therefore,  let  usury  in  general  be  re- 
duced to  five  in  the  hundred,  and  let  that  rate 
be  proclaimed  to  be  free  and  current;  and  let 
the  state  shut  itself  out  to  take  any  penalty  for 
the  same:  this  will  preserve  borrowing  from 
any  general  stop  or  dryness ;  this  will  ease 
infinite  borrowers  in  the  country;  this  will, 
in  good  part,  raise  the  price  of  land,  because 
land  purchased  at  sixteen  years'  purchase 
will  yield  six  in  the  hundred,  and  somewhat 
more,  whereas  this  rjite  of  interest  yields 
but  five:  this  by  like  reason  will  encourage 
and  edge  industrious  and  profitable  improve- 
ments, because  many  will  rather  venture  in 
that  kind,  than  take  five  in  the  hundred, 
especially  having  been  used  to  greater  profit. 
Secondly,  let  there  be  certain  persons  licens- 
ed to  lend  to  known  merchants  upon  usury, 
at  a  high  rate,  and  let  it  be  with  the  cau- 
tions following:  let  the  rate  be,  even  with 
the  merchant  himself,  somewhat  more  easy 
than  that  he  used  formerly  to  pay;  for  by 
that  means  all  borrowers  shall  have  some 
ease  by  this  reformation,  be  he  merchant  or 
whosoever:  let  it  be  no  bank,  or  common 


OF  USURY.  195 

stock,  but  every  mtin  be  master  of  his  own 
money;  not  that  I  altogether  dislike  banks, 
but  they  will  hiirdiy  be  brooked,  in  regard 
of  certain  suspicions.  Let  the  state  be  an- 
swered some  small  matter  for  the  license, 
and  the  rest  left  to  the  lender;  for  if  the 
abatement  be  but  small,  it  will  no  whit  dis- 
courage the  lender;  for  he,  for  example, 
that  took  before  ten  or  nine  in  the  hundred, 
will  sooner  descend  to  eight  in  the  hundred, 
than  give  over  this  trade  of  usury,  and  go 
from  certain  gains  to  gains  of  hazard.  Let 
these  licensed  lenders  be  in  number  indefi- 
nite, but  restrained  to  certain  principal  cities 
and  towns  of  merchandizing;  for  then  they 
will  be  hardly  able  to  colour  other  men's 
monies  in  the  country:  so  as  the  license  of 
nine  will  not  suck  away  the  current  rate  of 
five;  for  no  man  will  lend  his  monies  far  off, 
nor  put  them  into  unknown  hands. 

If  it  be  objected  that  this  doth  in  a  sort 
authorise  usury,  which  before  was  in  some 
places  but  permissive;  the  answer  is,  that  it 
is  better  to  mitigate  usury  by  declaration, 
thtin  to  suffer  it  to  rage  by  connivance. 


196  LORD    BjICON's    E8SAVS. 


XLltJ.    OF   YOUTH   A\D  AGE. 

A  MAM  that  is  young  in  years  may  be  old  in 
hours,  if  he  have  lost  no  time;  but  that  bap- 
peneth  rarely.  Generally,  youth  is  like 
the  first  cogitations,  not  so  wise  as  the 
second:  for  there  is  a  youth  in  thoughts  ns 
well  as  in  ages;  and  yet  the  invention  of 
young  men  is  more  lively  than  that  of  old, 
and  imaginations  stream  into  their  minds  bet- 
ter, and,  as  it  were,  more  divinely.  Natures 
that  have  much  heat,  and  great  and  violent 
desires  and  perturbations,  are  not  ripe  for 
action  till  they  have  passed  the  meridian  of 
their  years:  as  it  was  with  Julius  Ca;«ar  and 
Septimus  Severus;  of  the  latter  of  whom  it 
is  said,  "juventutem  egit,  erroribus,  imo 
furoribus  plenum;"'  and  yet  he  was  the  ablest 
emperor,  almost,  of  all  the  list:  but  reposed 
natures  may  do  well  in  youth,  as  it  is  seen  in 
Augustus  Caesar,  Cosmes,  duke  of  Florence, 
Gaston  de  Fois,  and  others.  On  the  other 
side,  heat  and  vivacity  in  age  is  an  excellent 
composition  for  business.  Young  men  are 
titter  to  invent  than  to  judge;  fitter  for  ex- 
ecution than  for  counsel;  and  fitter  for  new 
projects  than  for  settled  business;  for  the 
experience  of  age,  in  things  that  fall  within 


OF   rOt'TH  AND  AGE. 


197 


the  compass  of  it,  directetli  them:  bnt  in 
new  things  abuseth  them.  The  errors  of 
voung  men  are  the  ruin  of  business:  but  the 
errors  of  aged  men  amount  but  to  this,  that 
more  might  have  been  done,  or  sooner. 
Young  men.  in  the  conduct  and  manage  of 
actions,  embrace  more  than  they  can  hold; 
stir  more  than  they  can  quiet;  fly  to  the  end, 
Avithout  consideration  of  the  means  and  de- 
j»rees;  pursue  some  few  principles  which 
they  have  chanced  upon  absurdly;  care  not 
to  innovate,  which  draws  unknown  incon- 
veniences ;  use  extreme  remedies  at  first; 
and  that,  which  doubleth  all  errors,  will  not 
acknowledge  or  retract  them,  like  an  unrea- 
dy horse,  that  will  neither  stop  nor  turn. 
Men  of  age  object  too  much,  consult  too  long, 
adventure  too  little,  repent  too  soon,  and 
seldom  drive  business  home  to  the  full  pe- 
riod, but  content  themselves  with  a  medio- 
crity of  success.  Certainly  it  is  good  to 
compound  employments  of  both;  for  that 
will  be  good  for  the  present,  because  the 
virtues  of  either  age  may  correct  the  defects 
of  both;  and  good  for  succession,  that  young 
men  may  be  learners,  while  men  in  age  are 
actors;  and,  lastly,  good  for  external  acci- 
dents, because  authority  followeth  old  men, 
and  favour  and  popularity  youth:  but,  for 


198  LORD    BACON'S    ESSAYS. 

the  moral  part,  perhaps,  youth  will  have 
the  pre-eminence,  as  age  hath  for  the  politic. 
A  certain  rabbin  upon  the  text,  "Your  young 
men  shall  see  visions,  and  your  old  men 
shall  dream  dreams,"  inferreth  that  young 
men  are  admitted  nearer  to  God  than  old, 
because  vision  is  a  clearer  revelation  than 
a  dream:  and,  certainly,  the  more  a  man 
drinketh  of  the  world,  the  more  it  intoxica- 
teth:  and  age  doth  profit  rather  in  the  pow- 
ers of  understanding,  than  in  the  virtues  of 
the  will  and  affections.  There  be  some 
have  an  over-early  ripeness  in  their  years, 
which  fadeth  betimes:  these  are,  first,  such, 
as  have  brittle  wits,  the  edge  whereof  is 
soon  turned:  such  as  was  Hermogenes  the 
rhetorician,  whose  books  are  exceeding 
subtle,  who  afterwards  waxed  stupid  :  a 
second  sort  is  of  those  that  have  some  na- 
tural dispositions,  which  have  better  grace 
in  youth  than  in  age;  such  as  is  a  fluent  and 
luxurious  speech  ;  which  becomes  youth 
well,  but  not  age:  so  'J'ully  saith  of  Horten- 
sius,  "Idem  manebat,  neque  idem  decebat:'' 
the  third  is  of  such  as  take  too  high  a  strain 
at  the  first,  and  are  magnanimous  more  than 
tract  of  years  can  uphold;  as  was  Scipio 
Africanus,  of  whom  Livy  saith  in  effect, 
"Ultima  primis  cedebant."       •  -     ''/ri 


OF  BEAUTY.  199 


XLIV.  OF  BEAUTY. 

Virtue  is  like  a  rich  stone,  best  plain  set; 
and  surely  virtue  is  best  in  a  body  that  is 
comely,  though  not  of  delicate  features;  and 
that  hath  rather  dignity  of  presence,  than 
beauty  of  aspect;  neither  is  it  almost  seen, 
that  very  beautiful  persons  are  otherwise  of 
great  virtue;  as  if  nature  were  rather  busy 
not  to  err,  than  in  labour  to  produce  excel- 
lency; and  therefore  they  prove  accomplish- 
ed, but  not  of  great  spirit;  and  study  rather 
behaviour  than  virtue.  But  this  holds  not 
always:  for  Augustus  Caesar,  Titus  Vespa- 
sianus,  Philip  le  Belle  of  France,  Edward 
the  Fourth  of  England,  Alcibiades  of  Athens, 
Ismael  the  sophy  of  Persia,  were  all  high 
and  great  spirits,  and  yet  the  most  beautiful 
men  of  their  times.  In  beauty,  that  of  favour 
is  more  than  that  of  colour;  and  that  of  de- 
cent and  gracious  motion  more  than  that  of 
favour.  That  is  the  best  part  of  beauty 
which  a  picture  cannot  express;  no,  nor  the 
first  sight  of  the  life.  There  is  no  excellent 
beauty  that  hath  not  some  strangeness  in  the 
proportion.  A  man  cannot  tell  whether 
Apelles  or  Albert  Durer,  were  the  more 
trifler;  whereof  the  one  would  make  a  per- 


200  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

sonage  by  geometrical  proportions  :  <he 
other,  by  taking  the  best  parts  out  of  divers 
faces,  to  make  one  excellent.  Such  person- 
ages, I  think,  would  please  nobody  but  the 
painter  that  made  them:  not  but  I  think  a 
painter  may  make  a  better  face  than  ever 
was;  but  he  must  do  it  by  a  kind  of  felicity, 
(as  a  musician  that  maketh  an  excellent  air 
in  music)  and  not  by  rule.  A  man  shall  see 
faces,  that,  if  you  examine  them  part  by 
part,  you  shall  tind  never  a  good;  and  yet 
altogether  do  well.  If  it  be  true,  that  the 
principal  part  of  beauty  is  in  decent  motion, 
certainly  il  is  no  marvel,  though  persons  in 
years  seem  many  times  more  amiable;  "pul- 
chrorum  autumnus  pulcher;"  for  no  youth 
can  be  comely  but  b}'  pardon,  and  consider- 
ing the  youth  as  to  make  up  the  comeliness. 
Beauty  is  as  summer  fruits,  which  are  easy 
to  corrupt,  and  cannot  last;  and,  for  the- 
most  part,  it  makes  a  dissolute  youth,  and 
an  age  a  little  out  of  countenance;  but  yet 
certainly  again,  if  it  light  well,  it  maketh 
virtues  shine,  and  vices  blush. 


©F  DEFORMITy.  201 


XLV.   OF  DEFORMITY. 

Df,formed  persons  are  commonly  even  with 
nature;  for  as  nature  hath  done  ill  by  them, 
90  do  they  by  nature,  being  for  the  most 
part,  (as  tije  scripture  ?aith)  "void  of  natu- 
ral afi'ection:"  and  so  they  have  their  re- 
venge of  nature.  Certainly  there  is  a  con- 
sent between  the  body  and  the  mind,  and 
where  natnre  erreth  in  the  one,  she  ven- 
tureth  in  the  other:  "ubi  peccatin  uno,  peri- 
clitatur  in  altero:"  but  because  there  is  in 
man  an  election,  touching  the  frame  of  his 
mind,  and  a  necessity  in  the  frame  of  his 
body,  the  stars  of  natural  inclination  are 
sometimes  obscured  by  the  sun  of  discipline 
and  virtue;  therefore  it  is  good  to  consider 
of  deformity,  not  as  a  sign  which  is  more 
deceivable,  but  as  a  cause  which  seldom 
faileth  of  the  effect.  Whosoever  hath  any 
thing  fixed  in  his  person  that  doth  induce 
contempt,  hath  also  a  perpetual  spur  in  him- 
self, to  rescue  and,  deliver  himself  from 
scorn;  therefore,  all  deformed  persons  are 
extreme  bold;  first,  as  in  their  own  defence, 
as  being  exposed  to  scorn,  but  in  process  of 
time  by  a  general  habit.  Also  it  stirreth  in 
them  industry,  and  especially  of  this  kind. 


202  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

to  watch  and  observe  the  weakness  of  others, 
that  they  may  have  somewhat  to  repay. 
Again,  in  their  superiors,  it  qiiencheth 
jealousy  towards  them,  as  persons  that  they 
think  they  may  at  pleasure  despise:  and  it 
layeth  their  competitors  and  emuhUors 
asleep,  as  never  beUeving  they  should  be 
in  possibility  of  advancement  till  they  see 
them  in  possession:  so  that  upon  the  mat- 
ter, in  a  great  wit,  deformity  is  an  advantage 
to  rising.  Kings,  in  ancient  times,  (and  at 
this  present  in  some  countries)  were  wont 
to  put  great  trust  in  eunuchs,  because  they 
that  are  envious  towards  all  are  more  ob- 
noxious and  officious  towards  one;  but  yet 
their  trust  towards  them  hath  rather  been  as 
to  good  spials,  and  good  whisperers,  than 
good  magistrates  and  officers:  and  much  like 
is  the  reason  of  deformed  persons.  Still  the 
ground  is,  they  will,  if  they  be  of  spirit, 
seek  to  free  themselves  from  scorn;  which 
must  be  either  by  virtue  or  malice;  aqd, 
therefore,  let  it  not  be  marvelled,  if  some- 
times they  prove  excellent  persons;  as  was 
Agesilaus,  Zanger  the  son  of  Solyman,  ^sop, 
Gasca,  president  of  Peru;  and  Socrates 
may  go  likewise  amongst  them,  with  others. 


OF    BUILDING.       ^.  203 


XLVI.       OF    BUILDING. 


Houses  are  built  to  live  in,  and  not  to  look 
on;  therefore  let  use  be  preferred  before 
uniformity,  except  where  both  may  be  had. 
Leave  the  goodly  fabrics  of  houses,  for 
beauty  only,  to  the  enchanted  palaces  of  the 
poets,  who  build  them  with  small  cost.  He 
that  builds  a  fair  house  upon  an  ill  seat, 
coramitteth  himself  to  prison;  neither  do  I 
reckon  it  an  ill  seat  only  where  the  air  is 
unwholesome,  but  likewise  where  the  air  is 
unequal;  as  you  shall  see  many  fine  seats 
set  upon  a  knap  of  ground,  environed  with 
higher  hills  round  about  it,  whereby  the  heat 
of  the  sun  is  pent  in,  and  the  wind  gathereth 
as  in  troughs;  so  as  you  shall  have,  and 
that  suddenly,  as  great  diversity  of  heat  and 
cold  as  if  you  dwelt  in  several  places.  Nei- 
ther is  it  ill  air  only  that  maketh  an  ill  seat; 
but  ill  ways,  ill  markets;  and,  if  you  consult 
with  Momus,  ill  neighbours.  I  speak  not  of 
many  more;  want  of  water,  want  of  wood, 
shade,  and  shelter,  want  of  fruitfulness,  and 
mixture  of  grounds  of  several  natures;  want  of 
prospect,  want  of  level  grounds,  want  of  pla- 
ces at  some  near  distance  for  sports  of  hunting, 
hawking,  and  races;  too  near  the  sea,  too  re- 


204  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

mote;  having  the  cominodity  of  navigable  ri- 
vers, or  the  discommodity  oftheir  overflow- 
ing; too  far  off  from  greit  cities,  wliich  may 
hinder  business;  or  too  near  them,  wbicn 
Iiirciieth  all  provisions,  and  maketh  every 
thing  dear;  where  a  man  hatha  great  living  laid 
together,  and  where  he  is  scanted;  all 
which,  as  it  is  impossible  perhaps  to  find  to- 
gether, so  it  is  good  to  know  tliem,  and  think 
of  them,  that  a  man  may  take  as  many  as  he 
can;  and,  if  he  have  several  dwellings,  that  he 
sort  them  so,  that  what  he  wanteth  in  the  one, 
be  may  find  in  t!ie  other.  Lucullns  answer- 
ed Pompey  well,  who,  when  he  saw  his 
stately  galleries  and  rooms  so  large  and 
lightsome,  in  one  of  his  honses  said,  "Sure- 
ly an  excellent  place  for  summer,  but  how 
do  you  in  winter?"  Lucullus  answered, 
"Wiiy  do  yon  not  think  me  as  wise  as  sogjc 
fowls  are,  that  ever  change  their  abode  to- 
wards the  winter?" 

To  pass  from  the  seat  to  the  house  itself, 
we  will  do  as  Cicero  doth  in  the  orator's 
art,  who  writes  books  De  Oratore,  and  a 
book  he  entitles  Orator;  whereof  the  for- 
mer delivers  the  precepts  of  the  art,  and 
the  latter  the  perfection.  VV'e  will  there- 
fore describe  a  princely  palace,  making  a 
brief  model  thereof:  ipr  it  is  strange  to  see. 


OF    BUILDING."  205 

now  in  Europe,  such  huge  buildings  as  the 
Vatican  ani  Escurial,  and  some  others  be, 
and^'et  scarce  a  very  fair  room  in  them. 

First,  therefore,  I  say,  you  cannot  have 
a  perfect  palace,  except  you  have  two  seve- 
ral sides;  a  side  fiar  the  banquet,  as  is  spo- 
ken of  in  the  book  of  Esther,  and  a  side 
for  the  household;  the  one  for  feasts  and 
triumphs,  and  the  other  for  dwelling.  I 
understand  both  these  sides  to  be  not  only 
returns,  but  parts  of  the  front;  and  to  be 
uniform  without,  though  severally  partition- 
ed within;  and  to  be  on  both  sides  of  a  great 
and  stately  tower  in  the  midst  of  the  front, 
that,  as  it  were,  joineth  them  together  on 
either  hand.  I  would  have,  on  the  side  of 
the  banquet  in  front,  one  only  goodly  room 
above  stairs,  of  some  forty  foot  high;  and 
under  it  a  room  for  a  dressing  or  preparing 
place,  at  times  of  triumphs.  On  the  other 
side,  which  is  the  household  side,  1  wish 
it  divided  at  the  first  into  a  hall  and  a  cha- 
pel, (with  a  partition  between,)  both  of 
good  state  and  bigness;  and  those  not  to  go 
all  the  length,  but  to  have  at  the  flirtber 
end  a  winter  and  a  summer  parlour,  both 
fair;  and  under  these  rooms  a  fair  and  large 
cellar  sunk  under  ground;  and  likewise 
some    privy    kitchens,   with   butteries    and 

VOL.  v.  11 


206  LORD    bacon's    ES3AVS. 

pantries,  and  the  like.  As  for  the  tower,  i 
would  have  it  two  stories,  of  eighteen 
foot  high  a  piece  above  the  two  wings;  and 
goodly  lead*  upon  the  top,  railed  with  sta- 
tues interposed;  and  the  same  tower  to  be 
divided  into  rooms,  as  shall  be  thought 
fit.  The  stairs  likewise  to  the  upper  rooms, 
let  them  be  upon  a  fair  and  open  newel,  and 
finely  railed  in  with  images  of  wood  cast 
into  a  brass  colour;  and  a  very  fair  landing- 
place  at  the  top.  But  this  to  be,  if  you  da 
not  point  any  of  the  lower  rooms  for  a  din- 
ing place  of  servants;  for,  otherwise,  you 
shall  have  the  servants'  dinner  after  your 
own:  for  the  steam  of  it  will  come  up  as  in 
tunnel;  and  so  much  for  the  front:  only  I 
understand  the  height  of  the  first  stairs  to 
be  sixteen  foot,  which  is  the  height  of  the'* 
lower  room. 

Beyond  this  front  is  there  to  be  a  fair 
court,  but  three  sides  of  it  of  a  far  lower  build- 
ing than  the  front;  and  in  all  the  four 
corners  of  that  court  fair  stair-cases,  cast 
into  turrets  on  the  outside,  and  not  wifhin 
the  row  of  buildings  themselves:  but  those 
towers  are  not  to  be  of  the  height  of  the 
front,  but  rather  proportionable  to  the 
lower  building.  Let  the  court  not  be  paved, 
for  that  striketh  up  a  great  beat  in  summer. 


OF    BUILDING.  207 

and  much  cold   in    winter:    but  only  some 
side  alleys  with  a  cross,  and  the  quarters  to 
graze,  being   kept  shorn,  but  not  too  near 
.shorn.     The  row  of  return  on  the   banquet 
side,  let  it  be  all   stately  galleries:  in  which 
galleries  let  there  be  three  or  live  tine  cupolas 
in  the  length  of  it,  placed  at  equal  distance, 
and  fine  coloured  windows  of  several  works: 
on  the    household  side,   chambers   of  pre- 
sence   and    ordinary    entertainments,    with 
some  bed-chambers:  and  let  all  three  sides 
be  a  double  house,  without  thorough   liii,hts 
on  the  sides,  that  you  may    have  rooms  from 
the  sun,  both  for  forenoon   and  afternoon. 
Cast  it  also,  that  you  may  have  rooms   both 
for  summer  and  winter;  shady  for  summer, 
and  warm   for    winter.       You     shall    have 
sometimes  fair  houses  so  full  of  glass,   that 
one  cannot  tell    where    to    become    to    be 
out  of   the    sun    or    cold.     For    embowed 
windows,    1    hold    them   of  good    use;    (in 
cities,  indeed,  upright  do  better,  in  respect 
of  the    uniformity  towards  the  street;)  for 
they  be  pretty    retiring  places    for   confe- 
rence; and  besides,    they    keep    both    the 
wind  and  sun  off;  for  that  which  would  strike 
almost  through  the  room,  doth   scarce  pass 
the  window:  but  let  them  be  but  few,  four  in 
the  court,  on  the  sides  only. 


2J8  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

Beyond  this  court,  let  there  be  an  inward 
court,  of  the  same  square  and  height,  which 
is  to  be  environed  with  the  garden  on  all 
sides;  and  in  the  inside,  cloistered  on  all 
sides  upon  decent  and  beautiful  arches,  as 
high  as  the  tirst  story,  on  the  under  story, 
towards  the  garden,  let  it  be  turned  to  a  grot- 
to, or  place  of  shade,  or  estivation;  and 
only  have  opening  and  windows  towards 
the  garden,  and  be  level  upon  the  floor, 
no  whit  sunk  under  ground,  to  avoid  all 
dampishness:  and  let  there  be  a  fountain, 
or  some  fair  work  of  statues  in  the  midst 
of  the  court,  and  to  be  paved  as  the  other 
court  was.  These  buildings  to  be  tor  privy 
lodgings  on  both  sides,  and  the  end  for  privy 
galleries;  whereof  you  must  foresee  that 
one  of  them  be  for  an  inlirmary,  if  the* 
prince  or  any  special  person  should  be 
sick,  with  chambers,  bed-chamber,  "anteca- 
mera,"  and  "recamera,"  joining  to  it;  this 
upon  the  second  story.  Upon  the  ground 
story,  a  fair  gallery,  open,  upon  pillars;  . 
and  upon  the  third  story  likewise,  an  open 
gallery  upon  pillars,  to  take  the  prospect 
and  freshness  of  the  garden.  At  both  cor- 
ners of  the  farther  side,  by  way  of  return, 
let  (here  be  two  delicate  or  rich  cabinets, 
daintily  paved,  richly  hanged,  glazed    with 


OF    GARDENS.  209 

crystalline  glass,  and  a  rich  cupola  in  the 
midst;  and  all  other  elegancy  that  may  be 
thought  upon.  In  the  upper  gallery  too,  I 
wish  that  there  may  be,  if  the  place  will 
yield  it,  some  fountains  running  in  divers 
places  from  the  wall,  with  some  fme  avoi- 
dances. And  thus  miich  for  the  model  of 
the  palace:  save  that  you  must  have,  before 
you  come  to  the  front,  three  courts;  a  green 
court  plain,  with  a  wall  about  it;  a  second 
court  of  the  same,  but  more  garnished  with 
little  turrets,  or  rather  embellishments,  upon 
the  wall;  and  a  third  court,  to  make  a  square 
with  the  front,  but  not  to  be  built,  nor  yet 
enclosed  with  a  naked  wall,  but  enclosed 
with  terraces  leaded  aloft,  and  fairly  gart;isli- 
ed  on  the  three  sides;  and  cloistered  on  the 
inside  with  pillars,  and  not  with  arches  be- 
low. As  for  offices,  let  them  stand  at  dis- 
tance, with  some  lovv  galleries  to  pass  from 
them  to  the  palace  itself. 


XLVII.       OF    GARDENS. 

God  Almighty  first  planted  a  garden;  and, 
indeed,  it  is  the  purest  of  human  pleasures; 
it  is  the  greatest  refreshment  to  the  spirits  of 
man;  without  which  buildings  and  palaces 


£10  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

are  but  gross  handy-works:  and  a  man  shall 
ever  see,  that,  when  ages  grow  to  civility 
and  elegancy,  men  come  to  build  stalely, 
sooner  than  to  garden  finely;  as  if  garden- 
ing were  the  greater  perfection.  1  do  hold 
it,  in  the  royal  ordering  of  gardens,  there 
ought  to  be  gardens  for  all  the  months  in  the 
year,  in  which,  severally,  things  of  beauty 
may  be  then  in  season.  For  December,  and- 
January,  and  the  latter  part  of  November, 
you  must  take  such  things  as  are  green  all 
winter;  holly,  ivy,  bays,  juniper,  cypress- 
trees,  yew,  pines,  fir-trees,  rosemary,  laven- 
der; periwinkle,  the  white,  the  purple,  and 
the  blue;  germander,  flag,  orange -trees, 
lemon-trees,  and  myrtles,  if  they  be  stoved; 
and  sweet  marjoram,  warm  set.  There 
followeth,  for  the  latter  part  of  January  and 
February,  the  mezereon-tree,  which  thea 
blossoms;  crocus  vernus,  both  the  yellow 
and  the  grey;  primroses,  anemones,  the  early 
tulip,  the  hyacinthus  orientalis,  chamairis 
fritellaria.  For  March,  there  come  violets, 
especially  the  single  blue,  which  are  the 
earliest;  the  early  daffodil,  the  daisy,  the 
almond-tree  in  blossom,  the  peach  tree  in 
blossom,  the  cornelian -tree  in  blossom, 
sweet-brier.  In  April  follow  the  double 
white  violet,  the  wall-flower,  the  stock-gilli- 


OF    GARDENS.  211 

flower,  the  cowslip,  flower-de-luces,  and 
lilies  of  all  natures;  rosemary-flowers,  the 
tulip,  the  double  peony,  the  pale  daffodil, 
the  French  honeysuckle,  the  cherry-tree 
in  blossom,  the  damascene  and  plum  trees 
in  blossom,  the  white-thorn  in  leaf,  the  lilac- 
tree.  In  May  and  June  come  pinks  of  all 
sorts,  especially  the  blush-pink;  roses  of  all 
kinds,  except  the  musk,  which  comes  later; 
honey-suckles,  strawberries,  bugloss,  colum- 
bine, the  French  marigold,  flos  Africanus, 
cherry-tree  in  fruit,  ribes,  figs  in  fruit,  rasps, 
vine-flowers,  lavender  in  flowers,  the  sweet 
satyrian,  with  the  white  flower;  herba  mus- 
caria,  lilium  convallium,  the  apple-tree  in 
blossom.  In  July  come  gilliflowers  of  all 
varieties,  musk  roses,  the  lime-tree  in  blos- 
som, early  pears,  and  plums  in  fruit,  genit- 
ings,  codlins.  In  August  come  plums  of  all 
sorts  in  fruit,  pears,  apricots,  berberries,  fil- 
berds,  musk-melons,  monks-hoods,  of  all 
colours.  In  September  come  grapes,  ap- 
ples, poppies  of  all  colours,  peaches,  melo- 
cotones,  nectarines,  cornelians,  wardens, 
quinces.  In  October  and  the  beginninS;  of 
November  come  services,  medlars,  bullaces, 
roses  cut  or  removed  to  come  late,  hollyoaks, 
and  such  like.  These  particulars  are  for 
the  climate  of  London:  but  my  meaning  is 


i'12  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

perceived,  that  you  may  have  "  ver  perpe- 
tuum,"  as  the  place  .iffords. 

And  because  the  breath  of  flowers  is  far 
sweeter  in  the  air,  (where  it  comes  and 
goes,  like  the  warbling  of  music),  than  in 
the  hand,  therefore  nothing  is  more  fit  for 
that  delight,  than  to  know  what  be  the  flow- 
ers and  plants  that  do  best  perfume  the  air. 
Roses,  damask  and  red,  are  fast  flowers  of 
their  smells;  so  that  you  may  walk  by 
a  whole  row  of  them,  and  find  nothing  of 
their  sweetness;  yea,  though  it  be  in  a 
morning's  dew.  Bays,  likewise,  jield  no 
smell  as  they  grow,  rosemary  little,  nor 
sweet  marjoram;  that  which,  above  all 
others,  yields  the  sweetest  smell  in  the  air, 
is  the  violet,  especially  the  white  double 
violet,  which  comes  twice  a  year,  about 
the  middle  of  April,  and  about  Bartholomew- 
tide.  Next  to  that  is  the  musk-rose  ; 
then  the  strawberry-leaves  dying,  with  a 
most  excellent  cordial  smell;  then  the  flower 
of  tlie  vines,  it  is  a  little  dust  like  the  dust 
of  a  bent,  which  grows  upon  the  cluster  in 
the  first  coming  forth;  then  sweet-briers, 
then  wallflowers,  which  are  very  delightful 
to  be  set  under  a  parlour  or  lower  chamber- 
window;  then  pinks  and  gilliflowers,  espe- 
cially the  matted  pink  and  clove-gilliflower; 


OF    GARDENS.  213 

then  the  flowers  of  the  lime-tree,  then  the 
honeysuckles,  so  they  be  somewhat  afar  off. 
Of  bean-flowers  I  speak  not,  because  they 
are  field  flowers;  but  those  which  perfume 
the  air  most  delightfully,  not  passed  by  as 
the  rest,  but  being  trodden  upon  and  crush- 
ed, are  three,  that  is,  burnet,  wild  thyme, 
and  watermints;  therefore  you  are  to  set 
whole  alleys  of  them,  to  have  the  pleasure 
when  you  walk  or  tread. 

For  gardens  (speaking  of  those  which  are, 
indeed,  prince-like,  as  we  have  done  of 
buildings),  the  contents  ought  not  well  to 
be  under  thirty  acres  of  ground,  and  to  be 
divided  into  three  parts;  a  green  in  the 
entrance,  a  heath,  or  desert,  in  the  going 
forth,  and  the  main  garden  in  the  midst, 
besides  alleys  on  both  sides;  and,  I  like 
well,  that  four  acres  of  ground  be  assigned 
to  the  green,  six  to  the  heath,  four  and  four 
to  either  side,  and  twelve  to  the  main  gar- 
den. The  green  hath  two  pleasures:  the 
one,  because  nothing  is  more  pleasant  to 
the  eye  than  green  grass  kept  finely  shorn; 
the  other,  because  it  will  give  you  a  fair 
alley  in  the  midst,  by  which  you  may  go  in 
front  upon  a  stately  hedge,  which  is  to  en- 
close the  giirden:  but  because  the  alley  will 
be  long,  and,  in  great  heat  of  the  year,  or 


214  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

day,  you  ou^ht  not  to  buy  the  shade  in  the 
garden  by  going  in  the  sun  through  the 
green;  therefore  you  are,  of  either  side 
the  green,  to  plant  a  covert  alley,  upon 
carpenter's  work,  about  twelve  foot  in 
height,  by  which  you  may  go  in  shade  into 
the  garden.  As  for  the  milking  of  knots, 
or  figures,  ivith  divers  coloured  earths, 
that  they  may  lie  under  the  windows  of  the 
house  on  that  side  on  which  the  garden 
stands,  they  be  but  toys:  you  may  see  as 
good  sights  many  times  in  tarts.  The  gar- 
den is  best  to  be  square,  encompassed  on  all 
the  four  sides  with  a  stately  arched  hedge; 
the  arches  to  be  upon  pillars  of  carpenter's 
work,  of  some  ten  foot  high,  and  six  foot 
broad,  and  the  spaces  between  of  the  same 
dimensions  with  the  breadth  of  the  arch. 
Over  the  arches  let  there  be  an  entire 
hedge  of  some  four  foot  high,  framed  also 
upon  carpenter's  work;  and  upon  the  upper 
hedge,  over  every  arch,  a  little  turnet, 
with  a  belly  enough  to  receive  a  cage  of 
birds:  and  over  every  space  between  the 
arches  some  other  little  figure,  with  broad 
plates  of  round  coloured  glass  gilt,  for  the 
sun  to  play  upon:  but  this  hedge  1  intend  to 
be  raised  upon  a  bank,  not  steep,  but  eently 
slope,  of  some  six  foot,  set  all  with  flowers. 


OF    GARDENS.  215 

Also  I  uoder^itand,  that  this  square  of  the 
garden  should  not  be  the  whole  breadth  of 
the  ground,  but  to  leave  on  either  side 
ground  enough  for  diversity  of  side  alleys, 
unto  which  the  two  covert  alleys  of  the 
green  may  deliver  you;  but  there  must  be 
no  alleys  with  hedges  at  either  end  of  this 
great  enclosure;  not  at  the  hither  end,  for 
letting  your  prospect  upon  this  fair  hedge 
from  the  green;  nor  at  the  farther  end,  for 
letting  your  prospect  from  the  hedge  through 
the  arches  upon  the  heath. 

For  the  ordering  of  the  ground  within 
the  great  hedge,  1  leave  it  to  variety  of 
device;  advising,  nevertheless,  that  what- 
soever form  you  cast  it  into  first,  it  be  not 
too  busy,  or  full  of  work;  wherein  1,  for  my 
part,  do  not  like  images  cut  out  in  junip*»r  or 
other  garden  stuff;  they  be  for  children. 
Little  low  hedges,  round  like  welts,  with 
some  pretty  pyramids,  I  like  well;  and  in 
some  places  fair  columns,  upon  frames  of 
carpenter's  work.  I  would  also  have  the 
alleys  spacious  and  fair.  You  may  have 
closer  alleys  upon  the  side  grounds,  but 
none  in  the  main  garden.  I  wish  also,  in 
the  very  middle,  a  fair  mount,  with  three 
ascents  and  alleys,  enough  for  four  to  walk 
abreast;  which  i  would  have  to  be  periect 


216  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

circles,  without  any  bulwarks  or  emboss- 
ments; and  the  whole  mount  to  be  thirty 
feet  high,  and  some  fine  banqueting-house 
with  some  chimneys  neatly  cast,  and  without 
too  much  glass. 

For  fountains,  they  are  a  great  beauty  and 
refreshment;  but  pools  mar  all,  and  make 
the  garden  unwholesome,  and  full  of  flies 
and  frogs.  Fountains  I  intend  to  be  of  two 
natures;  the  one  that  sprinkleth  or  spouteth 
water:  the  other  a  fair  receipt  of  water,  of 
some  thirty  or  forty  feet  square,  but  without 
fish,  or  slime,  or  mud.  For  the  first,  the 
ornaments  of  images,  gilt  or  of  marble,  which 
are  in  use,  do  well:  but  the  main  matter  is 
to  convey  the  water,  as  it  never  stay,  either 
in  the  bowls  or  in  the  cistern;  that  the 
water  be  never  by  rest  discoloured,  green 
or  red,  or  the  like,  or  gather  any  mossiness 
or  putrefaction;  besides  that,  it  is  to  be 
cleansed  every  day  by  the  hand:  also  some 
steps  up  to  it,  and  some  fine  pavement  about 
it  do  well.  As  for  the  other  kind  of  foun- 
tain, which  we  may  call  a  bathing  pool,  it 
may  admit  much  curiosity  and  beauty,  where- 
with we  will  not  trouble  ourselves:  as,  that 
the  bottom  be  finely  paved,  and  with  images; 
the  sides  likewise;  and  withal  embellished 
with  coloured  glass,  and  such  things  of  lustre; 


OF    GARDENS.  217 

encompassed  also  with  fine  rails  of  low  sta- 
tues: but  the  main  point  is  the  same  which 
we  mentioned  in  the  former  kind  of  foun- 
tain; which  is,  that  the  water  be  in  perpe- 
tual motion,  fed  by  a  water  higher  than  the 
pool,  and  delivered  into  it  by  fair  spouts, 
and  then  dischari;ed  away  under  ground,  by 
some  equality  of  bores,  that  it  stay  little; 
and  for  fine  devices,  of  arching  water  with- 
out spilling,  and  making  it  rise  in  several 
forms  (of  feathers,  drinking  glasses,  cano- 
pies, and  the  like),  they  be  pretty  things  to 
look  on,  but  nothing  to  health  and  sweetness. 
For  the  heath,  which  was  the  third  part  of 
the  plot,  I  wished  it  to  be  framed  as  much  as 
may  be  to  a  natural  wildness.  Trees  I 
would  have  none  in  it,  but  some  thickets 
made  only  of  sweetbriar  and  honeysuckle, 
and  some  wild  vine  amongst;  and  the  ground 
set  with  violets,  strawberries,  and  primroses; 
for  these  are  sweet,  and  prosper  in  the 
shade;  and  these  are  to  be  in  the  heath 
here  and  there,  not  in  any  order.  I  like 
also  little  heaps,  in  the  nature  of  mole-hills 
(such  as  are  in  wild  heaths),  to  be  set  with 
some  wild  thyme,  some  with  pinks,  some 
with  germander,  that  gives  a  good  flower  to 
the  eye;  ♦some  with  periwinkle,  some  with 
violets,  some  with  strawberries,  some  with 


218  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

cowslips,  some  with  daisies,  some  with  red 
roses,  some  with  lilium  convaUiiun,  some 
with  sweet-williams  red,  some  with  bear's- 
foot,  and  the  like  low  flowers,  being  withal 
sweet  and  sightly:  part  of  which  heaps 
to  be  with  standards  of  little  bushes 
pricked  upon  their  top,  and  part  with- 
out: the  standards  to  be  roses,  juniper, 
holly,  berberries  (but  here  and  there,  be- 
cause of  the  smell  of  their  blossom),  red 
currants,  gooseberries,  rosemary,  bays, 
sweetbriar,  and  such  like:  but  these  stan- 
dards to  be  kept  with  cutting,  that  they  grow 
not  out  of  course. 

For  the  side  grounds,  you  are  to  fill  them 
with  variety  of  alleys,  private,  to  give  a  full 
shade;  some  of  them  wheresoever  the  sun 
be.  You  are  to  frame  some  of  them  like- 
wise for  shelter,  that,  when  the  wind  blows 
sharp,  you  may  walk  as  in  a  gallery:  and 
those  alleys  must  be  likewise  hedged  at  both 
ends,  to  keep  out  the  wind;  and  these  closer 
alleys  must  be  ever  finely  gravelled,  and  no 
grass,  because  of  going  wet.  In  many  of 
these  alleys,  likewise,  you  are  to  set  fruit 
trees  of  all  sorts,  as  well  upon  the  walls  as 
in  ranges;  and  this  should  be  generally  ob- 
served, that  the  borders  wherein  you  plant 
your  fruit-trees  be  fair,  and  large,  and  low, 


OF    GARDENS.  219 

and  not  steep;  and  set  with  fine  flowers,  but 
thin  and  sparingly,  lest  they  deceive  the 
trees.  At  the  end  of  both  the  side  grounds 
I  would  have  a  mount  of  some  pretty  height^ 
leaving  the  wall  of  the  enclosure  breast 
high,  to  look  abroad  into  the  fields. 

For  the  main  garden,  1  do  not  deny  but 
there  should  be  some  fair  alleys  rang- 
ed on  both  sides,  with  fruit  trees,  and  some 
pretty  tufts  of  fruit-trees  and  arbours  with 
seals,  set  in  some  decent  order;  but  these  ta 
be  by  no  means  set  too  thick,  but  to  leave 
the  main  garden  so  as  it  be  not  close,  but 
the  air  open  and  free.  For  as  for  shade,  I 
would  have  you  rest  upon  the  alleys  of  the 
side  grounds  there  to  walk,  if  you  be  disposed, 
in  the  heat  of  the  year  or  day;  but  to  make 
account  that  the  main  garden  is  for  the  more 
temperate  parts  of  the  year,  and,  in  the 
heat  of  summer,  for  the  morning  and  the 
evening,  or  overcast  days. 

For  aviaries  I  like  them  not,  except  they 
be  of  that  largeness  as  they  may  be  turfed, 
and  have  living  plants  and  bushes  set  Id 
them;  that  the  birds  may  have  more  scope 
and  natural  nestling,  and  that  no  foulness 
appear  on  the  floor  of  the  aviary.  So  I 
have  made  a  platform  of  a  princely  garden, 
partly  by  precept,  partly  by  drawing;  not  a 


220  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

model,  but  some  general  lines  of  it;  and  ia 
this  I  have  spared  for  no  cost:  biit  it  is 
nothing  for  great  princes,  that,  for  the  most 
part,  taking  advice  with  workmen,  with  no 
less  cost  set  (heir  things  together,  and  some- 
times add  statues,  and  such  things,  for  state 
and  magnihcence,  but  nothing  to  the  true 
pleasure  of  a  garden. 


XLVIII.       OF    NKGOCIATIXG. 

It  is  generally  better  to  deal  by  speech  than 
by  letter;  and  by  the  mediation  of  a  third 
than  by  a  man's  self.  Letters  are  good, 
when  a  man  would  draw  an  answer  by  letter 
back  again;  or  when  it  may  serve  for  a 
man's  justification  afterwards  to  produce  his 
own  letter;  or  where  it  may  be  in  danger  to 
be  interrupted,  or  heard  by  pieces.  To 
deal  in  person  is  good,  when  a  man's  face 
breedeth  regard,  as  commonly  with  inferiors; 
or  in  tender  cases,  where  a  man's  e^ye  upon 
the  countenance  of  him  with  whom  he 
speaketh,  may  give  him  a  direction  how  far 
to  go;  and  generally,  where  a  man  will 
reserve  to  himself  liberty,  either  to  disa- 
vow, or  expound.  In  choice  of  instruments, 
it  is  better  to  choose  men  of  a  plainer  sort. 


OF    NEGOCIATING.  221 

that  are  like  to  do  that  that  is  coramitted  to 
them,  and  to  report  back  again  faithfully  the 
success,  than  those  that  are  cunning  to  con- 
trive out  of  other  men's  business  some- 
what to  ^ace  themselves,  and  will  help  the 
matter  in  report,  for  satisfaction  sake.  Use 
also  such  persons  as  affect  the  business 
wherein  they  are  employed,  for  that  quick- 
eneth  much;  and  such  as  are  fit  for  the  mat- 
ter, as  bold  men  for  expostulation,  fair-spo- 
ken men  for  persuasion,  crafty  men  for 
inquiry  and  observation,  froward  and  absurd 
men  for  business  that  doth  not  well  bear 
out  itself.  Use  also  such  as  have  been 
lucky,  and  prevailed  before  in  things  where- 
in you  have  employed  them;  for  that  breeds 
confidence,  and  they  will  strive  to  maintain 
their  prescription.  It  is  better  to  sound  )i 
person  with  whom  one  deals,  afar  off,  than 
to  fill  upon  the  point  at  first;  except 
you  mean  to  surprise  him  by  some  short 
question.  It  is  better  dealing  with  men  in 
appetite,  than  with  those  that  are  where 
they  would  be.  If  a  man  deal  with  ano- 
ther upon  conditions,  the  start  of  first  per- 
formance is  all:  which  a  man  cannot  rea- 
sonably demand,  except  either  the  nature  of 
the  thing  be  such  which  must  go  before; 
or  else  a  man  can  persuade  the  other  party, 

VOL.  V.  15 


222  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

that  he  shall  still  need  him  in  some  other 
thing;  or  else  that  he  be  counted  the  honest- 
er  man.  All  practice  is  to  discover,  or  to 
work.  Men  discover  themselves  in  trust, 
in  passion,  at  unawares;  and  of  necessity, 
when  they  would  have  somewhat  done, 
and  cannot  find  an  apt  pretext.  If  you 
would  work  any  man,  you  mbst  either 
know  his  nature  or  fashions,  and  so  lead 
him;  or  his  ends,  and  so  persuade  him; 
or  his  weakness  and  disadvantages,  and  so 
awe  him;  or  those  that  have  interest  in 
him,  and  so  govern  him.  In  dealing  with 
cunning  persons,  we  must  ever  consider 
their  ends,  to  interpret  their  speeches;  and 
it  is  good  to  say  little  to  them,  and  that  which 
they  least  look  for.  In  all  negociatious  of 
difficulty,  a  man  may  not  look  to  sow  and 
reap  at  once;  but  must  prepare  business, 
and  so  ripen  it  by  degrees. 


XLIX.       OF    FOLLOWERS    AND    FRIENDS. 

Costly  followers  are  not  to  be  liked;  lest 
while  a  man  maketh  his  train  longer,  he 
make  his  wings  shorter.  1  reckon  to  be 
costly,  not  them  alone  which  charge  the 
purse,  but  which  are  wearisome  and  impor- 


OF    FOLLOWERS    AND    FRIENDS.  22D 

tune  in  suits.  Ordinary  followers  ought  to 
challenge  no  higher  conditions  than  counte- 
nance, recommendation,  and  protection  from 
wrongs.  Factious  followers  are  worse  to 
be  liked,  which  follow  not  upon  affection  to 
him,  with  whom  they  range  themselves,  but 
upon  discontentment  conceived  against  some 
other;  whereupon  commonly  ensueth  that 
ill  intelligence  that  we  many  times  see  be- 
tween great  personages.  Likewise  glorious 
followers,  who  make  themselves  as  trumpets 
of  the  commendation  of  those  they  follow, 
are  full  of  inconvenience,  for  they  taint 
business  through  want  of  secrecy;  and  they 
export  honour  fmm  a  man,  and  make  him  a 
return  in  envy.  There  is  a  kind  of  follow- 
ers, likewise,  which  are  dangerous,  being 
indeed  espials;  which  inquire  the  secrets  of 
the  house,  and  bear  tales  of  them  to  others; 
yet  such  men,  many  times,  are  in  great  fa- 
vour; for  they  are  officious,  and  commonly 
exchange  tales.  The  following  by  certaiu 
estates  of  men,  answerable  to  that  which 
a  great  man  himself  professeth,  (as  of  sol- 
diers to  him  that  hath  been  employed  in 
the  vvars,  and  the  like),  hath  ever  been  a 
thing  civil,  and  well  tiiken  even  in  monar- 
chies, so  it  be  without  too  much  pomp  or 
popularity:  but  the  most    honourable    kind 


2:^4  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

of  following,  is  to  be  followed  as  one  that 
apprehendeth  to  advance  virtue  and  desert 
in  all  sorts  of  persons;  and  yet,  where 
there  is  no  eminent  odds  in  sufficiency,  it 
is  better  to  take  with  the  more  passable, 
than  with  the  more  able;  and  besides,  to 
speak  truth  in  base  times,  active  men  are 
of  more  use  than  virtuous.  It  is  true,  that 
in  government,  it  is  good  to  use  men  of 
one  rank  equally:  for  to  countenance  some 
extraordinarily,  is  to  make  them  insolent, 
and  the  rest  discontent;  because  they  may 
claim  a  due:  but  contrariwise  in  favour,  to 
use  men  with  much  difference  and  election 
is  good;  for  it  maketh  the  persons  prefer- 
red more  thankful,  and  the  rest  more  offi- 
cious: because  all  is  of  favour.  It  is  good 
discretion  not  to  make  too  much  of  any 
man  at  the  first;  because  one  cannot  hold 
out  that  proportion.  To  be  governed  (as 
we  call  it),  by  one,  is  not  safe;  for  it  shews 
softness,  and  gives  a  freedom  to  scandal 
and  disreputation;  for  those  that  would  not 
censure,  or  speak  ill  of  a  man  immediately, 
will  talk  more  boldly  of  those  that  are  so 
great  with  them,  and  thereby  wound  their 
honour;  yet  to  be  distracted  with  many  is 
worse;  for  it  makes  men  to  be  of  the  last 
impression,  and  full  of  change.       To  take 


OF  SUITORS.  22a 

advice  of  some  few  friends  is  ever  honour- 
able; for  lookers-on  many  times  see  more 
than  gamesters;  and  the  vale  best  discover- 
eth  the  hill.  There  is  little  friendship  in 
the  world,  and  least  of  all  between  equals, 
which  was  wont  to  be  magnified.  That  that 
is,  is  between  superior  and  inferior,  whose 
fortunes  may  comprehend  the  one  the  other. 


L.    OF  SUITORS. 

Many  ill  matters  and  projects  are  under- 
taken; and  private  suits  do  putrefy  the  pub- 
lic good.  Many  good  matters  are  underta- 
ken with  bad  minds  ;  I  mean  not  only 
corrupt  minds,  but  cratly  minds,  that  intend 
not  performance.  Some  embrace  suits  which 
never  mean  to  deal  effectually  in  them ; 
but  if  they  see  there  may  be  life  in  the 
matter,  by  some  other  mean,  they  will  be 
content  to  win  a  thank,  or  take  a  second  re- 
ward, or,  at  least,  to  make  use  in  the  mean 
time  of  the  suitor's  hopes.  Some  take 
hold  of  suits  only  for  an  occasion  to  cross 
some  other,  or  to  make  an  information, 
whereof  they  could  not  otherwise  have  apt 
pretext,  without  care  what  become  of  the 
suit  when  the  turn  is  served;  or,  generally, 


226  LORD  bacon's  essays, 

to  make  other  men's  business  a  kind  of  en- 
tertainment to  bring  in  their  own:  naj',  some 
undertake  suits  with  a  full  purpose  to  let 
them  fall;  to  the  end  to  gratify  the  adverse 
party,  or  competitor.  Surely  there  is  in 
some  sort  a  right  in  every  suit;  either  a 
right  of  equity,  if  it  be  a  suit  of  controversy; 
or  a  right  of  desert,  if  it  be  a  suit  of  petition. 
If  affection  lead  a  man  to  favour  the  wrong 
side  in  justice,  let  him  rather  use  his  coun- 
tenance to  compound  the  matter  than  to  car- 
ry it.  If  affection  lead  a  man  to  favour  the 
less  worthy  in  desert,  let  liim  do  it  without 
depraving  or  disabling  the  better  deserver. 
In  suits  which  a  man  doth  not  well  underr 
stand,  it  is  good  to  refer  them  to  some  friend 
of  trust  and  judgment,  that  may  report  whe- 
ther he  may  deal  in  them  with  honour:  but 
let  him  choose  well  his  referendaries,  for 
else  he  may  be  led  by  the  nose.  Suitors 
are  so  distasted  with  delays  and  abuses, 
that  plain  dealing  in  denying  to  deal  in  suits 
at  first,  and  reporting  the  success  barely, 
and  in  challenging  no  more  thanks  than  one 
hath  deserved,  is  grown  not  only  honourable 
but  also  gracious,  in  suits  of  favour,  the 
first  coming  ought  to  take  little  place;  so  far 
forth  consideration  may  be  had  of  his  trust, 
that  if  intelligence  of  ihe  matter  could  not 


aF  SUITORS.  227 

otherwise  have  been  had  but  by  him,  advan- 
tage be  not  taken  of  the  note,  but  the  party 
left  to  his  other  means;  and  in  some  sort 
recompensed  for  his  discovery.  To  be  ig- 
norant of  the  value  of  a  suit,  is  simplicity; 
as  well  to  be  ignorant  of  the  right  thereof, 
is  want  of  conscience.  Secresy  in  suits  is  a 
great  mean  of  obtaining;  for  voicing  them  to 
be  in  forwardness  may  discourage  some  kind 
of  suitors;  but  doth  quicken  and  awake 
others:  but  timing  of  the  suit  is  the  princi- 
pal; timing  I  say,  not  only  in  respect  of  the 
person  who  should  jrrant  it,  but  in  respect 
of  those  which  are  like  to  cross  it.  Let  a 
man,  in  the  choice  of  his  mean,  rather 
choose  the  fittest  mean,  than  the  great- 
est mean  ;  and  ralher  them  that  deal  iff 
certain  things,  than  those  that  are  general. 
The  reparation  of  a  denial  is  sometimes 
equal  to  the  first  grant,  if  a  man  shew  him- 
self neither  dejected  nor  discontented.  "In- 
iquum  petas,  ut  aequum  feras,"  is  a  good  rule, 
where  a  man  hath  strength  of  favour:  but 
otherwise,  a  man  were  better  rise  in  his  suit; 
forhe  that  would  have  ventured  at  first  to 
have  lost  the  suitor,  will  not,  in  the  conclu- 
sion, lose  both  the  suitor  and  his  own  for- 
mer favour.  Nothing  is  thought  so  easy  a 
request  to  a  great  person,  as  his  letter;  and 


228  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

yet,  if  it  be  net  in  a  good  cause,  it  is  so  much 
out  of  his  reputation.  There  are  no  worse 
instruments  than  these  general  coutrivers  of 
suits;  for  they  are  but  a  kind  of  poison  and 
infection  to  pubHc  proceeding. 


LI.    OF   STUDIES. 

STUDrE>s  serve  for  delight,  for  ornament,  and 
for  ability.  Their  chief  use  for  delight,  is 
in  privateness  and  retiring;  for  ornament,  is 
in  discourse;  and  for  ability,  is  in  the  judg- 
ment and  disjjosition  of  business;  for  expert 
men  can  execute,  and  perhaps  judge  of  par- 
ticulars, one  by  one:  but  the  general  coun- 
sels, and  the  plots  and  marshalling  of  affairs, 
come  best  from  those  that  are  learned.  To 
spend  too  much  time  in  studies,  is  sloth;  to 
\ise  them  too  much  for  ornaniient,  is  affecta- 
tion ;  to  make  judgment  wholly  by  their 
rules,  is  the  humour  of  a  scholar:  they  per- 
fect nature,  and  are  perfected  by  experience: 
for  natural  abilities  are  like  natural  plants, 
that  need  pruning  by  study  ;  and  studies 
themselves  do  give  forth  directions  too 
much  at  large,  except  they  be  bounded  in 
by  experience.  Crafty  men  contemn  studies, 
simple  men  admire  them,  and  wise  men  use 


OF  STWDIES.  220 

them;  for  they  teach  not  their  own  use;  but 
that  is  a  wisdom  without  then^,  and  above 
them,  won  by  observation.  Read  not  to 
contradict  and  confute,  nor-  to  believe  and 
take  for  granted,  nor  to  find  talk  and  dis- 
course, but  to  weigh  and  consider.  Some 
books  are  to  be  tasted,  others  to  be  swal- 
lowed, and  some  few  to  be  chewed  and 
digested;  that  is,  some  books  are  to  be  read 
only  in  parts;  others  to  b.e  read,  but  not 
curiously;  and  some  few  to  be  read  wholly, 
and  with  diligencQw_ind  attention.  Some 
books  also  may  be  read  by  deputy,  and  ex- 
tracts made  of  them  by  others;  but  that 
would  be  only  in  the  less  important  argu- 
ments, and  the  meaner  sort  of  books;  else 
distilled  books  are,  like  common  distilled 
waters,  flashy  things.  Reading  maketh  a 
full  man ;  conference  a  ready  man;  and 
writing  an  exact  man;  and,  therefore,  if  a 
man  write  little,  he  had  need  have  a  great 
memory  :  if  he  confer  little,  he  had  need 
have  a  present  wit:  and  if  he  read  little,  he 
had  need  have  much  cunning,  to  seem  to 
know  that  he  doth  not.  Histories  make 
men  wise;  poets  witty ;  the  mathematics 
subtile  ;  natural  philosophy  deep ;  moral, 
grave;  logic  and  rhetoric,  able  to  contend; 
"Abeunt  studia  in  mores;"  nay,  there  is  no 


230  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

stand  or  impediment  in  the  wit,  but  may  be 
vvronglit  out  by  fit  studies:  like  as  diseases 
of  the  body  may  have  appropriate  exercises; 
bowling  is  good  for  the  stone  and  reins, 
shooting  for  the  lungs  and  breast,  gentle 
walking  for  the  stomach,  riding  for  the  head, 
and  the  like;  so.  if  a  man's  wits  be  wander- 
ing, let  him  study  the  mathematics;  for  in 
demonstrations,  if  his  wit  be  called  away 
never  so  little,  he  must  begin  again;  if  his 
wit  be  not  apt  to  distinguish  or  tind  differ- 
ences, let  him  study  tll;ufl&hoolmen,  for  they 
are  "Gymini  sectores;"  if  he  be  not  apt  to 
beat  over  matters,  and  to  call  upon  one  thing 
to  prove  and  illustrate  another,  let  him  study 
the  lawyers'  cases:  so  every  defect  of  the 
mind  may  have  a  special  receipt. 


LII.    OF  FACTION. 

Many  have  an  opinion  not  wise,  that  for  a 
prince  to  govern  his  estate,  or  for  a  great 
person  to  govern  his  proceedings,  according 
to  the  respect  to  factions,  is  a  principal  part 
of  policy;  whereas,  contrarivvise,  the  chief- 
est  wisdom  is,  either  in  ordering  those  things 
which  are  general,  and  wherein  men  of 
several  factions  do  nevertheless  agree,  or  in 


OF  FACTIOK.  231 

dealing  with  correspondence  to  particular 
person*,  one  hy  one:  but  I  say  not,  that  the 
consideration  of  factions  is  to  be  neglected. 
Mean  men,  in  their  rising,  must  adhere;  but 
great  men,  that  have  strength  in  themselves, 
were  better  to  maintain  themselves  indiffer- 
ent and  neutral:  yet  even  in  beginners,  to 
adhere  so  moderately,  as  he  be  a  man  of  the 
one  faction,  which  is  most  passable  with  the 
other,  commonly  giveth  best  way.  The 
lower  and  weaker  faction  is  the  tirmer  io 
conjunction;  and  it  is  often  seen,  tiiat  a  few 
that  are  stiff,  do  tire  oat  a  greater  number 
that  are  more  moderate.  When  one  of  the 
factions  is  extinguished,  the  remaining  subdi- 
videth;  as  the  faction  between  Lucullus  and 
the  rest  of  the  nobles  of  the  senate  (which 
they  called  "optimates  ')  held  out  awhile 
against  the  faction  of  Pompey  and  Caesar; 
but  when  the  senate's  authority  was  pulled 
down,  Caesar  and  Pompey  soon  after  brake. 
The  faction  or  party  of  Antonius  and  Octa- 
vianus  Caesar,  against  Brutus  and  Cassius, 
held  out  likewise  for  a  time;  but  when  Bru- 
tus and  Cassius  were  overthrown,  then  soon 
after  Antonius  and  Octavianus  brake  and 
subdivided  These  examples  are  of  wars, 
but  the  same  holdeth  in  private  factions: 
and,  therefore,  those  that  are  seconds   in 


232  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

factions,  do  many  times,  when  the  faction 
subdivideth,  prove  principals  ;  but  many 
times  also  they  prove  cyphers  and  cashier- 
ed: for  many  a  man's  strength  is  in  opposi- 
tion; and  when  that  faileth,  he  groweth  out 
of  use.  It  is  commonly  seen  that  men  once 
placed,  take  in  with  the  contrary  faction  to 
that  by  which  they  enter:  thinking,  belike, 
that  they  have  their  first  sure,  and  now  are 
ready  for  a  new  purchase.  The  traitor  in 
faction  lightly  goeth  away  with  it,  for  when 
matters  have  stuck  long  in  balancing,  the 
winning  of  some  one  man  casteth  them,  and 
he  getteth  all  the  thanks.  The  even  car- 
riage between  two  factions  proceedeth  not 
always  of  moderation,  but  of  a  trueness  to  a 
man's  self,  with  end  to  make  use  of  both. 
Certainly,  in  Italy,  they  hold  it  a  little  sus- 
pect in  popes,  when  they  have  often  in  their 
mouth  "Padre  commune:"  and  take  it  to  be 
a  sign  of  one  that  meaneth  to  refer  all  to  the 
greatness  of  his  own  house.  Kings  had  need 
-beware  how  they  side  themselves,  and  make 
themselves  as  of  a  faction  or  party;  for 
leagues  within  the  state  are  ever  pernicious 
to  monarchies;  for  they  raise  an  obligation 
paramount  to  obligation  of  sovereignty,  and 
make  the  king  "tanquam  unus  ex  nobis;" 
as  was  to  be  seen  in  the  league  of  France. 


OF  CIREMOJflES  AND  RESPECTS.  233 

When  factions  are  carried  too  high  and  too 
violently',  it  is  a  sign  of  weakness  in  princes, 
and  much  lo  the  prejudice  both  of  their 
authority  and  business.  The  motions  of 
factions  under  kings,  ought  to  be  like  the 
motions  (as  the  astronomers'  speak),  of  the 
inferior  orbs,  which  may  have  their  proper 
motions,  but  yet  still  are  quietly  carried  by 
the  higher  motion  of  "primum  mobile." 


LIII.    OF  CEREMONIES  AND  RESPECTS. 

He  that  is  only  real,  had  need  have  exceed- 
ing great  parts  of  virtue;  as  the  stone  had 
need  to  be  rich  that  is  set  without  foil:  but 
if  a  man  mark  it  well,  it  is  in  praise  and 
commendation  of  men,  as  it  is  in  gettings  and 
gains:  for  the  proverb  is  true,  "That  light 
gains  make  heavy  purses;"  for  light  gains 
come  thick,  whereas  great  come  but  now 
and  then:  so  it  is  true,  that  small  matters 
win  great  commendation,  because  they  are 
continually  in  use  and  in  note  :  whereas 
the  occasion  of  any  great  virtue  cometh  but 
on  festivals;  therefore  it  doth  much  add  to 
a  man's  reputation,  and  is  (as  queen  Isabella 
said),  like  perpetual  letters  commendatory, 
to  have  good  forms:  to  attain  them,  it  almost 


234  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

sufficeth  not  to  despise  them;  for  so  shall  a 
man  observe  them  in  others;  and  let  him 
trust  himself  with  the  rest;  for  if  he  labour 
too  mach  to  express  them,  he  shall  lose 
their  grace;  which  is  to  be  natural  and  unaf- 
fected. Some  men's  behaviour  is  like  a 
verse,  wherein  every  syllable  is  measured; 
how  can  a  man  comprehend  great  matters, 
that  breaketh  his  mind  too  much  to  small 
observations?  Not  to  use  ceremonies  at  all, 
is  to  teach  others  not  to  use  them  again;  and 
80  diminisheth  respect  to  himself;  especially 
they  are  not  to  be  omitted  to  strangers  and 
formal  natures:  but  the  dwelling  upon  them, 
and  exalting  them  above  the  moon,  is  not 
only  tedious,  but  doth  diminish  the  faith  and 
credit  of  him  that  speaks:  and,  certainly, 
there  is  a  kind  of  conveying  of  effectual  and 
imprinting  passages  amongst  compliments, 
which  is  of  singular  use,  if  a  man  can  hit 
upon  it.  Amongst  a  man's  peers,  a  man 
shall  be  sure  of  familiarity;  and  therefore  it 
is  good  a  little  to  keep  state;  amongst  a 
man's  inferiors,  one  shall  be  sure  of  reve- 
rence; and  therefore  it  is  good  a  little  to  be 
familiar.  He  that  is  too  much  in  any  thing, 
so  that  he  giveth  another  occasion  of  socie- 
ty, maketh  himself  cheap.  To  apply  one- 
self to  others,  is  good;  so  it  be  with  demon- 


OF    PRAISE.  2S5 

stration,  that  a  man  doth  it  upon  regard,  and 
not  upon  facility.  It  is  a  good  precept, 
generally  in  seconding  another,  }et  to  add 
somewhat  of  one's/Own:  as  if  you  will  grant 
his  opinion,  let  it  be  with  some  distinction; 
if  you  will  follow  his  motion,  let  it  be  with 
condition;  if  you  allow  his  counsel,  let  it  be 
with  alleging  farther  reason.  Men  had  need 
beware  how  they  be  too  perfect  in  compli- 
ments; for  be  they  never  so  sufficient  other- 
wise, their  euviers  will  be  sure  to  give  them 
that  attribute,  to  the  disadvantage  of  their 
greater  virtues.  It  is  loss  also  in  business 
to  be  too  full  of  respects,  or  to  be  too  curi- 
ous in  observing  times  and  opportunities. 
Solomon  saith,  •'  He  that  considereth  the 
wind  shall  not  sow,  and  he  that  looketh  to 
the  clouds  shall  not  reap."  A  wise  man 
will  make  more  opportunities  than  he  finds. 
Mpu's  behaviour  should  be  like  their  appa- 
rel, not  too  strait  or  point  device,  but  free 
for  exercise  or  motion. 


LIV.    OF    PRAISE. 

Praise  is  the  reflection  of  virtue,  but  it  is 
as  the  glass,  or  body,  which  giveth  the 
reflection;  if  it  be  from  the  common  peo- 


236  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

pie,  it  is  commonly  false  and  nought,  and 
rather  followeth  vain  persons  than  virtuous: 
for  the  common  people  understand  not  many 
excellent  virtues:  the  lowest  virtues  draw 
praise  from  them,  the  middle  virtues  work 
in  them  astonishment  or  admiration;  but  of 
the  highest  virtues  they  have  no  sense  of 
perceiving  at  all;  but  shews  and  "species 
virtutibus  similes,"  serve  best  with  them. 
Certainly,  fame  is  like  a  river,  that  beareth 
«p  things  light  and  swollen,  and  drowns 
things  weighty  and  solid-;  but  if  persons  of 
quality  and  judgment  concur,  then  it  is  (as 
the  scripture  saith),  "  Nomen  bonum  instar 
unguenti  fragrantis;"  it  fiUeth  all  round 
about,  and  will  not  easily  away;  for  the 
odours  of  ointments  are  more  durable  than 
those  of  flowers.  There  be  so  many  false 
points  of  praise,  that  a  man  may  justly  hold 
it  in  suspect.  Some  praises  proceed  mere- 
ly of  flattery;  and  if  he  be  an  ordinary  flat- 
terer, he  will  have  certain  common  attri- 
butes, which  may  serve  every  man;  if  he  be 
a  cunning  flatterer,  he  will  follow  the  arch- 
flatterer,  which  is  a  man's  self,  and  wherein 
a  man  thinketh  best  of  himself,  therein  the 
flatterer  will  uphold  him  most:  but  if  he  be 
an  impudent  flatterer,  look  wherein  a  man 
is  conscious  to  himself  that  he  is  most  defec- 


OF    PRAISE.  237 

tive,  and  is  most  out  of  countensmce  in  him- 
self, that  will  the  flatterer  entitle  him  to  per- 
force, "  spreta  conscientia."  Some  praises 
come  of  good  wishes  and  respects,  which  is 
;i  form  due  in  civility  to  kings  and  great  i»er- 
sons,  "  laudando  praecipere;"  when  by  tel- 
ling men  what  they  are,  they  represent  to 
them  what  they  should  be:  some  men  are 
praised  maliciously  to  their  hurt,  thereby  to 
stir  envy  and  jealousy  towards  them;  "  pes- 
siraura  genus  inimicorum  laudantium;"  inso- 
much as  it  was  a  proverb  amongst  the  Gre- 
cians, that,  "  he  that  was  praised  to  his 
hurt,  should  have  a  push  rise  upon  his 
nose;"  as  we  say,  that  a  blister  will  rise  upon 
one's  tongue  that  tells  a  lie;  certainly,  mode- 
rate praise,  used  with  opportunity,  and  not 
vulgar,  is  that  which  doth  the  good.  Solo- 
mon saith,  "  he  that  praiseth  his  friend 
aloud  rising  early,  it  shall  be  to  him  no  bet- 
ter than  a  curse."  Too  much  magnifying 
of  man  or  matter  doth  irritate  contradiction, 
and  procure  envy  and  scorn.  To  praise  a 
man's  self  cannot  be  decent,  except  it  be  in 
rare  cases;  but  to  praise  a  man's  office  or 
profession,  he  may  do  it  with  good  grace, 
and  with  a  kind  of  magnanimity.  The  car- 
dinals of  Rome,  which  are  theologues,  and 
friars,  and  schoolmen,  have  a  phrase  of  no- 

VOL.    V,  16 


238  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

table  contempt  and  scorn  towards  civil  busi- 
ness, for  they  call  all  temporal  business  of 
wars,  embassages,  judicature,  and  other  em- 
ployments, sherrerie,  which  is  under-sherif- 
fries,  as  if  they  were  but  matters  for  under* 
sheriffs  and  catch-poles;  though  many  times 
those  under-sheriffries  do  more  good  than 
their  high  speculations.  St.  Paul,  when  he 
boasts  of  himself,  doth  oft  interlace,  "  I 
speak  like  a  fool;"  but  speaking  of  his  call- 
ing, he  saith,  "  magnificabo  apostolatum 
meum." 


tV.    OF    VAIN    GLORY. 

It  was  prettily  devised  of  ^sop,  the  fly 
sat  upon  the  axle-tree  of  the  chariot  wheel, 
and  said,  "what  a  dust  do  1  raise!"  So  are 
there  some  vain  persons,  that,  whatsoever 
goeth  alone,  or  moveth  upon  greater  means, 
if  they  have  never  so  little  hand  in  it,  they 
think  it  is  they  that  carry  it.  They  that 
are  glorious  must  needs  be  factious;  for  all 
bravery  stands  upon  comparisons.  They 
must  needs  be  violent  to  make  good  their 
own  vaunts;  neither  can  they  be  secret,  and 
therefore  not  effectual;  but  according  to  the 
French  proverb,  "beaucoup  de  bruit,  peu 


OF    VAIN    GLORY.  239 

de  fruit; — "much  bruit,  little  fruit."     Yet, 
certainly,  there  is  use  of  this  quality  in  civil 
affairs:    where    there    is    an    opinion    and 
fame   to   be   created,    either  of  virtue   or 
greatness,  these  men  are  good  trumpeters. 
Agftin  as  Titus  Livius  noteth,  in  the  case  of 
Antiochus  and  the  ^tolians,  there  are  some- 
times great  eflfects  of  cross  lies;  as  if  a  man 
that  negociates  between  two  princes,  to  draw 
them  to  join  in  a  war  against  a  third,   doth 
extol   the   forces  of  either  of  them   above 
measure,   the   one  to   the  other:   and  some- 
times  he  that  deals  between  man   and  man 
raiseth   his   own  credit   with   both,  by  pre- 
tending greater   interest   than    he   hath   in 
either:  and  in  these,   and  the  like  kinds,   it 
often  falls  out,  that  somewhat  is  produced 
of  nothing;  for  lies    are  sufficient   to   breed 
opinion,    and  opinion   brings    on  substance. 
In   military  commanders  and  soldiers,   vain 
glory  is  an  essential  point;  for  as  iron  shar- 
pens iron,  so  by  glory  one  courage  sharpen- 
eth  another.     In  cases  of  great  enterprise 
upon  charge  and  adventure,  a  composition  of 
glorious  natures  doth  put  life  into   business; 
and  those  that  are  of  solid  and  sober  natures, 
have  more  of  the  ballast  than  of  the  sail. 
In  fame  of  learning  the  flight  will  be  slow 


240  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

without  some  feathers  of  ostentation:  "Q,tii 
de  contemnenda  gloria  libros  scribunt,  no- 
men  suum  inscribunt."  Socrates,  Aristotle, 
Galen,  were  men  full  of  ostentation:  certain- 
ly, vain  glory  helpeth  to  perpetuate  a  man's 
memory;  and  virtue  was  never  so  be- 
holden to  human  nature,  as  it  received  its 
due  at  the  second  hand.  Neither  had  the 
fame  of  Cicero,  Seneca,  Plinius  Secundus, 
borne  her  age  so  well  if  it  had  not  been 
Joined  with  some  vanity  in  themselves;  like 
unto  varnish,  that  makes  ceilings  not  only 
shine,  but  last.  But  all  this  while,  when  I 
speak  of  vain  glory,  I  mean  not  of  that  pro- 
perty that  Tacitus  doth  attribute  to  Muci- 
anus,  "Omnium,  quse  dixerat  feceratque, 
arte  quadam  ostentator:"  for  that  proceeds 
not  of  vanity,  but  of  natural  magnanimity 
and  discretion;  and,  in  some  persons,  is  not 
only  comely,  but  gracious:  for  excusations, 
cessions,  modesty  itself,  well  governed,  are 
but  arts  of  ostentation;  and  amongst  those 
arts  there  is  none  better  than  that  which 
PHnius  Secundus  speaketh  of,  which  is  to 
be  liberal  of  praise  and  commendation  to 
others,  in  that  wherein  a  man's  self  hath  any 
perfection:  for,  sailh  Pliny,  very  wittingly, 
"In  commending  another  you  do  yourself 
right;"  for  he  that  you  commend  is  either 


OF    HONOUR    AND    REPtJTATIOX.  241 

.superior  to  you  in  that  you  commend,  or  in- 
ferior; if  he  be  inferior,  if  he  be  to  be  com- 
mended, you  much  more;  if  he  be  superior, 
if  he  be  not  to  be  commended,  you  much 
less.  Vain  glorious  men  are  the  scorn  of 
wise  men,  the  admiration  of  fools,  the  idols 
of  parasites,  and  the  slaves  of  their  own 
vaunts. 


LVr.      OF    HONOUR    AND    REPUTATION. 

The  winning  of  honour  is  but  the  revealing; 
of  a  man's  virtue  and  worth  without  disadvan- 
tage; for  some  in  their  actions  do  woo  and 
affect  honour  and  reputation;  which  sort  of 
men  are  commonly  much  talked  of,  but  in- 
wardly little  admired:  and  some,  contrari- 
wise, darken  their  virtue  in  the  shew  of  it; 
so  as  they  be  undervalued  in  opinion.  If  a 
man  perform  that  which  hath  not  been  at- 
tempted before,  or  attempted  and  given 
over,  or  hath  been  achieved,  but  not  with 
so  good  circumstance,  he  shall  purchase 
more  honour  than  by  affecting  a  matter 
of  greater  difficulty,  or  virtue,  wherein 
he  is  but  a  follower.  If  a  man  so  temper 
his  actions,  as  in  some  one  of  them  he 
doth  content  every  faction    or  combination 


242  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

of  people,  the  music  will  be  the  fuller.  A 
man  is  an  ill  husband  of  his  honour  that  en- 
tereth  into  any  action,  the  failing  wherein 
may  disgrace  him  more  than  the  carrying 
of  it  through  can  honour  him.  Honour 
that  is  gained  a,nd  broken  upon  another  hath 
the  quickest  reflection,  like  diamonds  cut 
with  fascets;  and,  therefore,  let  a  man  contend 
to  excel  any  competitors  of  his  honour,  in 
outshooting  them,  if  he  can,  in  their  own 
bow.  Discreet  followers  and  servants  help 
much  to  reputation:  "  Omnis  fama  a  domes- 
ticis  emanat."  Envy,  which  is  the  canker  of 
honour,  is  best  distinguished  by  declaring  a 
man's  self  in  his  ends,  rather  to  seek  merit 
than  fame:  and  by  attributing  a  man's  suc- 
cesses rather  to  divine  Providence  and  feli- 
city, than  to  his  own  virtue  or  policy.  The 
true  marshalling  of  the  degrees  ol  sovereign 
honour  are  these:  in  the  first  place  are 
'*conditores  iaiperiorum,"  founders  of  states 
and  commonwealths;  such  as  were  Romulus, 
Cyrus,  CsBsar,  Ottoman,  Ismael:  in  the  se- 
cond place  are  "  legislatores,"  lawgivers; 
which  are  also  called  second  founders,  or 
"  perpetui  principes,"  because  they  govern 
by  their  ordinances  after  they  are  gone; 
such  were  Lycurgus,  Solon,  Justinian,  Edgar, 
AJphonsus  of  Castile,  the  wise,  that  made 


OF    HONOUR    AND    RBFUTATION.  fiS 

the  "  Siete  patridas:"  in  the  third  place  ace 
"  liberatores,"  or  "  salvatores;"  such  as 
compound  the  long  miseries  of  civil  wars, 
or  deliver  their  countries  from  servitude  of 
strangers  or  tyrants;  as  Augustus  Caesar, 
Vespasianus,  Aurelianus,  Tbeodoricus,  King 
Henry  the  Seventh  of  England,  King  Henry 
the  Fourth  of  France:  in  the  fourth  place 
are  "  propagatores,"  or  "  propugnatores 
imperii,"  such  as  in  honourable  wars  en- 
large their  territories,  or  make  noble  de- 
fence against  invaders:  and,  in  the  last  place, 
are  "  patres  patrise,''  which  reign  justly,  and 
make  the  times  good  wherein  they  live; 
both  which  last  kinds  need  no  examples, 
they  are  in  such  number.  Degrees  of  hon- 
our in  subjects  are,  first,  "  participes  cura- 
rum,"  those  upon  whom  princes  do  dis- 
charge the  greatest  weight  of  their  affairs; 
their  right  hands,  as  we  may  call  them: 
the  next  are  "  duces  belli,"  great  leaders; 
such  as  are  princes'  lieutenants,  and  do  them 
notable  services  in  the  wars:  the  third  are 
"  gratiosi,"  favourites;  such  as  exceed  not 
this  scantling,  to  be  solace  to  the  sovereign, 
and  harmless  to  the  people:  and  the  fourth, 
"  negotiis  pares;"  such  as  have  great  places 
under  princes,  and  execute  their  places  with 
sufficiency.     There  is  an  honour,  likewise. 


244  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

which  may  be  ranked  amongst  the  greatest, 
which  happeneth  rarely;  that  is,  of  such  as 
sacrifice  themselves  to  death  or  danger  for 
the  good  of  their  country;  as  was  M.  Regu- 
lus,  and  the  two  Decii. 


LVir.       OF    JUDICATURE. 

Judges  ought  to  remember  that  their  office 
is  "jus  dicere,"  and  not  "jus  dare;**  to  in- 
terpret law,  and  not  to  make  law,  or  give 
law;  else  will  it  be  like  the  authority  claim- 
ed by  the  church  of  Rome,  which  under 
pretext  of  exposition  of  scripture,  doth  not 
stick  to  add  and  alter;  and  to  pronounce  that 
which  they  do  not  find,  and  by  shew  of  an- 
tiquity to  introduce  novelty.  Judges  ought 
to  be  more  learned  than  witty,  more  reve- 
rend than  plausible,  and  more  advised  than 
conlident.  Above  all  things,  integrity'  is 
their  portion  and  proper  virtue.  "  Cursed 
(saith  the  law)  is  he  that  removeth  the  land- 
mark." The  mislayer  of  a  mere  stone  is 
to  blame;  but  it  is  the  unjust  judge  that  is 
the  capital  remover  of  landmarks,  when  he 
detineth  amiss  of  land  and  property.  One 
foul  sentence  doth  more  hurt  than  many  foul 
examples;    for  these   do    but  corrupt  the 


OF    JODICATURE.  245 

stream,  the  other  corrupteth  the  fountain: 
so  saith  Solomon,  "  Fons  turbatus,  et  vena 
"orrupta  est  Justus  cadens  in  causa  sua  coram 
adversario."  The  office  of  judges  may 
have  reference  unto  the  parties  that  sue, 
into  the  advocates  that  plead,  unto  the  clerks 
ard  ministers  of  justice  underneath  them, 
ani  to  the  sovereign  or  state  above  them. 

Tirst,  for  the  causes  or  parties  that  sue. 
There  be,  (saith  the  scripture),  "that  turn 
judjment  into  wormwood;"  and  surely  there 
be  ilso  that  turn  it  into  vinegar;  for  injus- 
tice uaketh  it  bitter,  and  delays  make  it  sour. 
The  principal  duty  of  a  judge  is,  to  suppress 
force  ind  fraud;  whereof  force  is  the  more 
pernict)us  when  it  is  open,  and  fraud  when 
it  is  cloie  and  disguised.  Add  thereto  con- 
tcntioussnits,  which  ought  to  be  spewed  out, 
;is  the  su-feit  of  courts.  A  judge  ought  to 
prepare  Ks  way  to  a  just  sentence,  as  God 
U5eth  to  prepare  his  way,  by  raising  valleys 
and  taking  down  hills:  so  when  there  ap- 
peareth  on  »ither  side  an  high  hand,  violent 
prosecution^cunning  advantages  taken,  com- 
bination, pover,  great  counsel,  then  is  the 
virtue  of  a  j^dge  seen  to  make  inequality 
equal;  that  1^  may  plant  his  judgment  as 
upon  an  even  ground.  "  Qui  fortiter  emun- 
git,  elicit  sangvinem;"  and  where  the  wine 


246  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

press  is  bard  wrought,  it  yields  a  harsh 
wine,  that  tastes  of  the  grape-stone.  Judges 
must  beware  of  hard  constructions,  and  strain- 
ed inferences;  for  there  is  no  worse  torturi 
than  the  torture  of  laws:  especially  in  case 
of  laws  penal,  they  ought  to  have  care  thtt 
that  which  was  meant  for  terror  be  not  tun- 
ed into  rigour;  and  that  they  bring  not  upn 
the  people  that  shower  whereof  the  scnp- 
ture  speaketh,  "  Pluet  super  eos  laqueoi;" 
for  penal  laws  pressed,  are  a  shower  of 
snares  upon  the  people:  therefore  let  pinal 
laws,  if  they  have  been  sleeper?  of  lorg,  or 
if  they  be  grown  untit  for  the  presenttime, 
be  by  wise  judges  confiDed  in  the  exedtion: 
"Judicis  officium  est,  ut  res,  ita  tmpora 
rerum,"  &c.  In  causes  of  life  anl  death 
judges  ought,  (as  far  as  the  law  pernitteth), 
injustice  to  remembpr  mercy,  and  to  cast  a 
severe  eye  upon  the  example,  but  i  merciful 
eye  upon  the  person. 

Secondly,  for  the  advocates  fld  counsel 
that  plead.  Patience  and  gravis  of  hearing 
is  an  essential  part  of  justice;  ind  an  over- 
speaking  judge  is  no  well-tunef  cyn>bal.  It 
is  no  grace  to  a  judge  first  to  fiid  that  which 
he  might  have  heard  in  due  Jme  from  the 
bar;  or  to  show  quickness  of  :onceit  in  cut- 
ting off  evidence  or  counse  too  short,  or 


OF    JUDICATUBE.  247 

to  prevent  information  by  questions,  though 
pertinent.  The  parts  of  a  judge  in  hearing 
are  four:  to  direct  the  evidence;  to  mode- 
rate length,  repetition,  or  impertinency  of 
speech;  to  recapitulate,  select,  and  collate 
the  material  points  of  that  which  hath  been' 
said,  and  to  give  the  rule,  or  sentence. 
Whatsoever  is  above  these  is  too  much,  nnd 
proceedeth  either  of  glory  and  willingness 
to  speak,  or  of  impatience  to  hear,  or  of 
shortness  of  memory,  or  of  want  of  a  stay- 
ed and  equal  attention.  It  is  a  strange  thing 
to  see  that  the  boldness  of  advocates  should 
prevail  with  judges;  whereas  they  should 
imitate  God,  in  whose  seat  they  sit,  who 
represseth  the  presumptuous,  and  giveth 
grace  to  the  modest:  but  it  is  more  strange, 
that  judges  should  have  noted  favourites, 
which  cannot  but  cause  multiplication  of 
fees,  and  suspicion  of  by-ways.  There  is 
due  from  the  judge  to  the  advocate  some 
commendation  and  gracing,  where  causes  are 
well  handled  and  fair  pleaded,  especially 
towards  the  side  which  obtaineth  not;  for 
that  upholds  in  the  client  the  reputation  of 
his  counsel,  and  beats  down  in  him  the  con- 
ceit of  his  cause.  There  is  likewise  due 
to  the  public  a  civil  reprehension  of  advo- 
cates, where  there  appeareth  cunning  coun- 


S48  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

sel,  gross  neglect,  slight  information,  indis- 
creet pressing,  or  an  overbold  defence;  and 
let  not  the  counsel  at  the  bar  chop  with  the 
judge,  nor  wind  himself  into  the  handling 
of  the  cause  anew  after  the  judge  hath 
declared  his  sentence;  but,  on  the  other 
side,  let  not  the  judge  meet  the  cause  half 
way,  nor  give  occasion  to  the  party  to  say, 
his  counsel  or  proofs  were  not  heard. 

Thirdly,  for  that  that  concerns  clerks  and 
ministers.  The  place  of  justice  is  an  hal- 
lowed place;  and  therefore  not  only  the 
bench,  but  the  footpace  and  precincts,  and 
purprise  thereof,  ought  to  be  preserved 
without  scandal  and  corruption;  for,  certain- 
ly, grapes,  (as  the  scripture  saiih),  "will 
not  be  gathered  off  thorns  or  thistles;" 
neither  can  justice  yield  her  fruit  with  sweet- 
ness amongst  the  briars  and  brambles  of 
ciitching  and  pulling  clerks  and  ministers. 
The  attendance  of  courts  is  subject  to  four 
ba(3  instruments:  tirst,  certain  persons  that 
are  sowers  of  suits,  which  make  the  court 
swell,  and  the  country  pine:  the  second  sort 
is  of  those  that  engage  courts  in  quarrels  of 
jurisdiction,  and  are  not  truly  "amici  curiae," 
but  "  parasiti  curiae,"  in  puffing  a  court  up 
beyond  her  bounds  for  their  own  scraps  and 
advantages:  the  third  sort  is  of  those  that 


OF    JUDICATURE.  249 

may  be  accounted  the  left  bands  of  courts: 
persons  tbat  are  full  of  nimble  and  sinister 
tricks  and  shifts,  whereby  they  pervert  the 
plain  and  direct  courses  of  courts,  and  bring 
justice  into  oblique  lines  and  labyrinths:  and 
the  fourth  is  the  poller  and  exacter  of  fees; 
which  justifies  the  common  resemblance  of 
the  courts  of  justice  to  the  bush,  whereunto, 
while  the  sheep  flies  for  defence  in  weather, 
he  is  sure  to  lose  part  of  the  fleece.  On  the 
other  side,  an  ancient  clerk,  skilful  in  prece- 
dents, wary  in  proceeding,  and  understand- 
ing in  the  business  of  the  court,  is  an  excel- 
lent figure  of  a  court,  and  doth  many  times 
point  the  way  to  the  judge  himself. 

Fourthly,  for  that  which  may  concern  the 
sovereign  and  estate.  Judges  ought,  above 
all,  to  remember  the  conclusion  of  the  Ro- 
man twelve  taSples,  "  Salus  populi  supreraa 
lex:"  and  to  know  that  laws,  except  they  be 
in  order  to  that  end,  are  but  things  captious, 
and  oracles  not  well  inspired:  therefore  it 
is  an  happy  thing  in  a  state,  when  kings  and 
states  do  often  consult  with  judges:  ntid 
again,  when  judges  do  often  consult  with  the 
king  and  state:  the  one,  where  there  is  mat- 
ter of  law  intervenienl  in  business  of  state; 
the  other,  when  there  is  some  consideration 
of  state  inter venient  in  matter  of  law;  for 


250  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

many  times  the  things  deduced  to  judgment 
may  be  ""menm"  and  "tuum,"  when  tlie 
reason  and  consequence  thereof  may  trench 
to  point  of  estate:  I  call  matter  of  es- 
tate, not  only  the  parts  of  sovereign- 
ty, but  whatsoever  introduceth  any  great 
alteration,  or  dangerous  precedent;  or  con- 
cerneth  manifestly  any  great  portion  of 
people:  and  let  no  man  weakly  conceive 
that  just  laws,  and  true  policy,  have  any 
antipathy;  for  they  are  like  the  spirits  and 
sinews,  that  one  moves  with  the  other. 
Let  judges  also  remember,  that  Solomon's 
throne  was  supported  by  lions  on  both  sides: 
let  them  be  lions,  but  yet  lions  under  the 
throne:  being  circumspect,  that  they  do  not 
check  or  oppose  any  points  of  sovereignty. 
Let  not  judges  also  be  so  ignorant  of  their  own 
right,  as  to  think  there  is  not  left  them,  as 
a  principal  part  of  their  office,  a  wise  use 
and  application  of  laws;  for  they  may  re- 
member what  the  apostle  saith  of  a  greater 
law  than  theirs:  "JJos  scimus  quia  lex  bona 
est,  modo  quis  ea.  utatur  legitime." 


LVIir.       OF    AirOER. 

To  seek  to  extinguish  anger  utterly  is  but  a 
"bravery  of  the  Stoics.     We  have  better  ora- 


OF    ANGER.  251 

eles:  "Be  angry,  but  sin  not:  let  not  the 
sun  go  down  upon  your  anger."  Anger  must 
be  linoited  and  confined,  both  in  race  and  in 
time.  We  will  first  speak  how  the  natural 
inclination  and  habit,  "to  be  angry,"  may  be 
attempered  and  calmed;  secondly,  how  the 
particular  motions  of  anger  may  be  repress- 
ed, or,  at  least,  refrained  from  doing  mis- 
chief; thirdly,  how  to  raise  anger,  or  appease 
anger  in  another. 

For  the  first,  there  is  no  other  way  but  to 
meditate  and  ruminate  well  upon  the  effects 
of  anger,  how  it  troubles  man's  life:  and  the 
best  time  to  do  this,  is  to  look  back  upon  an- 
ger when  the  fit  is  thoroughly  over.  Sene- 
ca saith  well,  "that  anger  is  like  rain,  which 
breaks  itself  upon  that  it  falls."  The  scrip- 
ture exhorteth  us  "to  possess  our  souls  in 
patience;"  whosoever  is  out  of  patience,  is 
out  of  possession  of  his  soul.  Men  must 
not  turn  bees; 


■  animafqne  in  mlnefe  ponaat.' 


Anger  is  certainly  a  kind  of  baseness;  as  it 
appears  well  in  the  weakness  of  those  sub- 
jects in  whom  it  reigns,  children,  women, 
old  folks,  sick  folks.  Only  itien  must  beware 
that  they  carry  their  anger  rather  with  scorn 


252  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

than  with  fear;  so  that  they  may  seem  ra- 
ther to  be  above  the  injury  than  below  it; 
which  is  a  thing  easily  clone,  if  a  man  will 
give  law  to  himself  in  it. 

For  the  second  point,  the  causes  and  mo- 
tives of  anger  are  chiefly  three;  first,  to  be 
too  sensible  of  hurt;  for  no  man  is  angry 
that  feels  not  himself  hurt;  and,  therefore, 
tender  and  delicate  persons  must  needs  be 
oft  angry,  they  have  so  many  things  to  trou- 
ble them,  which  more  robust  natures  have 
lUtle  sense  of:  the  next  is,  the  apprehension 
and  construction  of  the  injury  offered  to  be, 
in  the  circumstances  thereof,  full  of  con- 
tempt: for  contempt  is  that  which  putteth 
an  edge  upon  anger,  as  much,  or  more,  than 
the  hurt  itself;  and,  therefore,  when  men 
are  ingenious  in  picking  out  circumstances 
of  contempt,  they  do  kindle  their  anger  much: 
lastly,  opinion  of  the  touch  of  a  man's  repu- 
tation doth  multiply  and  sharpen  anger; 
wherein  the  remedy  is,  that  a  man  should 
have,  as  Gonsalvo  was  wont  to, say,  "telam 
honoris  crassioiem."  But  in  all  refrainings 
of  anger,  it  is  the  best  remedy  to  win 
time,  and  to  make  a  man's  self  believe  that 
the  opportunity  of  his  revenge  is  not  yet 
come;  but  that  he  foresees  a  time  for  it, 
and  so  to  still  himself  in  the  mean  time,  and 
reserve  it. 


OF    ANGER. 


253 


-  To  contain  anger  from  mischief,  though 
it  take  hold  of  a  man,  there  be  two  things 
whereof  you  must  have  special  caution:  the 
one,  of  extreme  bitterness  of  words,  espe- 
cially if  they  be  aculeate  and  proper;  for 
"communia  maledicta"  are  nothing  so  much; 
and  again,  that  in  anger  a  man  reveal  no  se- 
crets; for  that  makes  him  not  fit  for  society: 
the  other,  that  you  do  not  peremptorily  break 
off  in  any  business  in  a  fit  of  anger;  bOt 
howsoever  you  shew  bitterness,  do  not  act 
any  thing  thaf^is  not  revocable. 

For  raising  and  appeasing  anger  in  ano- 
ther,-it  is  done  chiefly  by  choosing  of  times, 
when  men  are  frowardest  and  worst  disposed 
to  incense  them;  again,  by  gathering  (as  was 
touched  before)  all  that  you  can  find  out  to 
aggravate  the  contempt:  and  the  two  reme- 
dies are  by  the  contraries:  the  fornjer  to 
take  good  times,  when  first  to  relate  to  a 
man  an  angry  business,  for  the  first  impres- 
sion is  much;  and  the  other  is,  to  sever,  as 
much  as  may  be,  the  construction  of  the  in- 
jury from  the  point  of  contempt;  imputing 
it  to  misunderstanding,  fear,  passion,  or  what 
you  will. 

VOL.   V.  17 


254  LORD  bacon's  essays. 


LIX.       OF    VICISSITUDE    OF    THIITGS. 

Solomon  saitb,  "There  is  no  new  thing  upon 
the  earth:"  so  th:»t  as  Plato  had  an  imagina- 
tion that  all  knowledge  was  but  remem- 
brance; so  Salomon  giveth  his  sentence, 
"That  all  novelt}^  is  but  oblivion;"  whereby 
you  may  see,  that  the  river  of  Lethe  run- 
neth as  well  above  ground  as  below  There 
is  an  abstruse  astrologer  that  saith,  if  it 
Avere  not  for  two  things  that  are  constant, 
(the  one  is,  that  the  fixed  stars  ever  stand 
at  like  distance  one  from  another,  and 
never  come  nearer  together,  nor  go  farther 
asunder;  the  other,  that  the  diurnal  motion 
perpetually  keepeth  time),  no  individual 
would  last  one  moment:  certain  it  is  that 
matter  is  in  a  perpetual  flux,  and  never  at  a 
stay.  The  great  winding-sheets  that  bury 
all  things  in  oblivion  are  two;  deluges  and 
earthquakes.  As  for  conflagrations  and  great 
droughts,  they  do  not  merely  dispeople,  but 
destroy.  Phaeton's  car  went  but  a  day; 
and  the  three  years'  drought  in  the  time  of 
Elias,  was  but  particular,  and  left  people 
alive.  As  for  the  great  burnings  by  light- 
nings, which  are  often  in  the  West  Indies, 
they  are 'but  narrow;  but  in  the  other  two 
destructions,  by  deluge  and  earthquake,  it  is 


OF  VICISSITUDE  OF  THINGS.  255 

farther  to  be  noted,  that  the  remnant  of  peo- 
ple which  happen  to  be  reserved,  are  com- 
monly ignorant  and  mountainous  people,  that 
can  give  no  account  of  the  time  past;  so  that 
the  oblivion  is  all  one  as  if  none  had  been 
left.     If  you  consider  well  of  the  people  ol" 
the  West  Indies,    it  is   very   probable  that 
they  are  a  newer,  or  a  younger  people  than 
the  people  of  the  old  world;  and  it  is  much 
more  likely  that  the   destruction   that  hath 
heretofore  been  there,   was  not  by   earth- 
quakes, (as  the  ^Egyptian  priest  told   Solon, 
concerning  the  island  of  Atlantis,  that  it  was 
swallowed  by  an  earthquake),   but   rather, 
that  it  was  desolated  by  a  particular  deluge: 
for  earthquakes   are  seldom  in  those    parts: 
but  on  the  other  side,  they  have  such  pour- 
ing rivers,  as  the  rivers  of  Asia,  and  Africa, 
and  Europe,  are  but  brooks  to  them.    Their 
Andes  likewise,  or  mountains,  are  far  higher 
than    those   with    us;     whereby    it    seems, 
that  the    remnants    of  generations   of  men 
were  in  such  a  particular  deluge  saved.     As 
for    the    observation   that   Machiavel  hath, 
that  the  jealousy   of  sects  doth  much  extin- 
guish the  memory  of  things;  traducing  Gre- 
gory the  Great,  that  he  did  what  in  him  lay 
to  extinguish   all  heathen  antiquities;   I    do 
not  find  that  those  zeals  do  any  great  effects, 


256  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

nor  last  long;  as  it  appeared  in  the  succes- 
sion of  Sabinian,  who  did  revive  the  former 
antiquities. 

The  vicissitude,  or  mutations,  in  the  su- 
perior globe,  are  no  tit  matter  for  this  pre- 
sent argument.  It  may  be  Plato's  great 
year,  if  the  world  should  last  so  long,  would 
have  some  effect,  rtot  in  renewing  the  state 
of  like  individuals,  (for  that  is  the  fume  of 
those  that  conceive  the  celestial  bodies  have 
more  accurate  influences  upon  these  things 
below,  than  indeed  they  have),  but  in  gross. 
Comets,  out  of  question,  have  likewise  pow- 
er and  effect  over  the  gross  and  mass  of 
things:  but  they  are  rather  gazed  upon,  and 
waited  upon  in  their  journey,  than  wisely  ob- 
served in  their  effects;  especially  in  their 
respective  effects;  that  is,  what  kind  of  co- 
met, for  magnitude,  colour,  version  of  the 
beams,  placing  in  the  region  of  heaven,  or 
lasting,  produceth  what  kind  of  effects. 

There  is  a  toy,  which  I  have  heard,  and  I 
would  not  have  it  given  over,  but  waited 
upon  a  little.  They  say  it  is  observed  in 
the  Low  Countries,  (I  know  not  in  what 
part),  that  every  five  and  thirty  years  the 
same  kind  and  suit  of  years  and  weathers 
come  about  again;  as  great  frosts,  great  wet, 
great  droughts,  warm  winters,  summers  with 


OF  VICMSITODE  OF  THINGS.  267 

little  heat,  and  the  like;  and  they  call  it,  the 
prime:  it  is  a  thing  I  do  the  rather  mention, 
because,  computing  backwards,  I  have  found 
some  concurrence. 

But  to  leave  these  points  of  nature,  and 
to  come  to  men.  The  greatest  vicissitude 
of  things  amongst  men,  is  the  vicissitude  of 
sects  and  religions;  for  those  orbs  rule  in 
men's  minds  most.  The  true  religion  is 
built  upon  the  rock;  the  rest  are  tossed 
upon  the  waves  of  time.  To  speak,  there- 
fore, of  the  causes  of  new  sects,  and  to  give 
some  counsel  concerning  them,  as  far  as 
the  weakness  of  human  judgment  can  give 
stay  to  so  great  revolutions. 

When  the  religion  formerly  received  is 
rent  by  discords,  and  when  the  holiness  of 
the  professors  of  religion  is  decayed  and  full 
of  scandal,  and  withal  the  times  be  stupid, 
ignorant,  and  barbarous,  you  may  doubt  the 
Springing  up  of  a  new  sect:  if  then  also 
there  should  arise  any  extravagant  and 
strange  spirit  to  make  himself  author 
thereof;  all  which  points  held  when  Ma- 
homet published  his  law.  If  a  new  sect 
have  not  two  properties,  fear  it  not,  for  it 
will  not  spread:  the  one  is  the  supplant- 
ing, or  the  opposing  of  authority  establish- 
ed; for  nothing  is  more  popular  than  that: 


258  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

tbe  other  is  the  giving  license  to  pleasures 
and  a  voluptuous  life:  for  ^s  for  specula- 
tive heresies,  (such  as  were  in  ancient  times 
the  Arians,  and  now  the  Arminians),  though 
they  work  mightily  upon  men's  wits,  yet 
they  do  not  produce  any  great  alteration  in 
states;  except  it  be  by  the  help  of  civil  oc- 
casions. There  be  three  manner  of  planta- 
tions of  new  sects;  by  the  power  of  signs 
and  miracles;  by  the  eloquence  and  wisdom 
of  speech  and  persuasion;  and  by  the  sword. 
For  martyrdoms,  I  reckon  them  amongst 
miracles,  because  they  seem  to  exceed  the 
strength  of  human  nature:  and  1  may  do  the 
like  of  superlative  and  admirable  holiness 
of  life.  Surely  there  is  no  better  way  to 
stop  the  rising  of  new  sects  and  schisms, 
than  to  reform  abuses;  to  compound  the 
smaller  differences;  to  proceed  mildly,  and 
not  with  sanguinary  persecutions;  and  ra- 
ther to  take  off  the  principal  anthors,  by 
winning  and  advancing  them,  than  to  enrage 
them  by  violence  and  bitterness. 

The  changes  and  vicissitudes  in  wars  are 
many,  but  chiefly  in  three  things;  in  the 
seats,  or  stages  of  the  war,  in  the  weapons, 
and  in  the  manner  of  the  conduct.  Wars, 
iu  ancient  time,  seemed  more  to  move 
from  east   to  west;    for  the  Persians,   As- 


OF  VICISSITUDE  OF  THINGS.  259 

Syrians,  Arabians,  Tartars,  (which  were 
the  invaders),  were  all  eastern  people. 
It  is  true,  the  Gauls  were  western;  but  we 
read  but  of  two  incursions  of  theirs;  the  one 
to  Gallo  Graecia,  the  other  to  Rome:  but 
east  and  west  have  no  certain  points  of  hea- 
ven ;  and  no  more  have  the  wars,  either 
from  the  east  or  west,  any  certainty  of  ob- 
servation: but  north  and  south  are  fixed; 
and  it  hath  seldom  or  never  been  seen  that 
the  far  southern  people  have  invaded  the  ' 
northtvrn,  but  contrariwise;  whereby  it  is 
manifest  that  the  northern  tract  of  the  world 
is  in  nature  the  more  martial  rejrion:  be  it 
in  respect  of  the  stars  of  that  hemisphere, 
or  of  the  great  continents  that  are  upon  the 
north;  whereas  the  south  part,  for  aught 
that  is  known,  is  almost  all  sea;  or,  (which 
is  most  apparent),  of  the  cold  of  the  north- 
ern parts,  which  is  that,  "which,  without  aid 
of  discipline,  doth  make  the  bodies  hardest, 
and  the  courage  warmest. 

Upon  the  breaking  and  shivering  of  a 
great  state  and  empire,  you  may  be  sure  to 
have  wars;  for  great  empires,  while  they 
stand,  do  enervate  and  destro}'  the  forces  of 
the  natives  which  they  have  subdued,  rest- 
ing upon  their  own  protecting  forces;  and 
then,  when  they  fail  also,  all  goes  to  ruin. 


260  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

and  they  become  a  prey;  so  it  was  in  the 
decay  of  the  Roman  empire,  and  likewise  in 
the  empire  of  Almaigne,  after  Charles  the 
Great,  every  bird  taking  a  feather;  and  were 
not  unlike  to  befall  to  Spain,  if  it  should 
break.  The  great  accessions  and  unions  of 
kingdoms  do  likewise  stir  up  wars:  for  when 
a  state  grows  to  an  overpower,  it  is  like  a 
great  tlood,  that  will  be  sure  to  overflow; 
as  it  hath  been  seen  in  the  states  of  Rome, 
Turkey,  Spain,  and  others.  Look  when 
the  world  hath  fevvest  barbarous  people,  but 
such  as  commonly  will  not  marry,  or  gene- 
rate, except  they  know  means  to  live,  (as  it 
is  almost  every  where  at  this  day,  except 
Tartary),  there  is  no  danger  of  inundations  of 
people:  but  when  tiiere  be  great  shoals  of 
people,  which  go  on  to  populate,  without 
foreseeing  means  of  life  and  sustentation,  it 
is  of  necessity  that  once  in  an  age  or  two 
they  discharge  a  portion  of  their  people 
upon  other  nations,  which  the  ancient  north- 
ern people  were  wont  to  do  by  lot;  casting 
lots  what  part  should  stay  at  home,  and  what 
should  seek  their  fortunes.  When  a  warlike 
state  grows  soft  and  effeminate,  they  may  be 
sure  of  a  war:  for  commonly  such  states  are 
grown  rich  iu  the  time  of  their  degenerat- 
ing; and  so  the  prey  inviteth,  and  their  de- 
cay in  valour  encourageth  a  war. 


OF  VICISSITUDE  OF  THINGS.  261 

As  for  the  weapons,  it  hardly  falleth  under 
rule  and  observation:  yet  we  see  even  they 
have  returns  and  vicissitudes;  for  certain  it 
is,  that  ordnance  was  known  in  the  city  of 
the  Oxydraces,  in  India;  and  was  that  which 
the  Macedonians  called  thunder  and  light- 
ning, and  noagic;  and  it  is  well  known  that 
the  use  of  ordnance  hath  been  in  China 
above  two  thousand  years.  The  conditions 
of  weapons,  and  their  improvements,  are, 
lirst,  the  fetching  afar  off;  for  that  outruns 
the  danger,  as  it  i?  seen  in  ordnance  and  mus- 
kets; secondly,  the  strength  of  the  percus- 
sion; wherein  likewise  ordnance  do  exceed 
all  arietations,  and  ancient  inventions:  the 
third  is,  the  commodious  use  of  them;  as 
that  they  may  serve  in  all  weathers,  that  the 
carriage  may  be  light  and  manageable,  and 
the  hke. 

For  the  conduct  of  the  war:  at  the  first, 
men  rested  extremely  upon  number;  they 
did  put  the  wars  likewise  upon  main  force 
and  valour,  pointing  days  for  pitched  fields, 
and  so  trying  it  out  upon  an  even  match; 
and  they  were  more  ignorant  in  ranging  and 
arraying  their  battles.  After  they  grew  to 
rest  upon  number,  rather  competent  than 
vast;  they  grew  to  advantages  of  place,  cun- 
ning diversions,  and  the  like;  and  they  grew 
more  skilful  in  the  ordering  of  their  battles. 


262  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

In  the  3'outh  of  a  state,  arms  do  flourish; 
in  the  middle  age  of  a  state,  learning;  and 
then  both  of  them  together  for  a  time;  in 
the  declining  age  of  a  state,  mechanical  arts 
and  merchandize  Learning  hath  its  infancy, 
when  it  is  but  beginning,  and  almost  childish; 
then  its  youth,  when  it  is  luxuriant  and  juve- 
nile; then  its  strength  of  years,  when  it  is 
solid  and  reduced;  and,  lastly,  its  old  age, 
when  it  waxeth  dry  and  exhaust;  hut  it  is 
not  good  to  look  too  long  upon  these  turning 
wheels  of  vicissitude,  lest  we  become  giddy: 
as  for  the  philology  of  them,  that  is  brit  a 
circle  of  tales,  and  therefore  not  fit  for  this 
writing. 


A  FRAGMErrT 


AN    ESSAY    OF    FAME. 


The  poets  make  Fame  a  monster  :  they 
describe  her  in  part  finely  and  elegantly, 
and  in  part  gravely  and  sententiously:  they 
say,  look  how  many  feathers  she  hath,  so 
many  eyes  she  hath  underneath,  so  many 
tongues,  so  many  voices,  she  pricks  op  so 
many  ears. 

This  is  a  floarish;  there  follow  excellent 
parables;  as  that  she  gathereth  strength  in 
going;  that  she  goeth  upon  the  ground,  and 
yet  hideth  her  he'\d  in  the  clonds;  that  in 
the  day-time  she  "itteth  in  a  watch-tower, 
and  flyeth  most  by  night;  that  she  mingleth 
things  done  with  thing?  not  done;  and  that 
she  is  a  terror  to  great  cities:  but  that  which 
passeth  all  the  rest  is,  they  do  recount  that 
the  Earth,  mother  of  the  giants  that  made 
war  against  Jupiter,  and  were  by  him  de- 
stroyed, thereupon  in  anger  brought  forth 


264  LORD  bacon's  essays. 

Fame;  for  certain  it  is,  that  rebels,  figured 
by  the  giants  and  seHitions  fames  and  jibels, 
are  b;it  brothers  and  sisters,  masculine  and 
feminine:  but  now  if  a  man  can  tame  tliis 
moniter,  and  bring  her  to  feed  at  the  hand 
and  govern  her,  and  with  her  fly  other  ra- 
vening fowl  and  kill  them,  it  is  somewhat 
worth;  but  we  are  infected  with  the  style  of 
the  poets.  To  speak  now  in  a  sad  and  se- 
rious manner,  there  is  not  in  all  the  politics 
a  place  less  handled,  and  more  worthy  to  be 
handled,  than  this  of  fame;  we  will  there- 
fore speak  of  these  points:  what  are  false 
fames;  and  what  are  true  fames;  and  how 
they  may  be  best  discerned  ;  how  fames 
may  be  sown  and  raised;  how  they  may  be 
spread  and  multiplied;  and  how  they  may  be 
checked  and  laid  dead;  and  other  things  con- 
cerning the  nature  of  fame.  Fame  is  of  that 
force,  as  there  is  scarcely  any  great  action 
wherein  it  hath  not  a  great  part,  especially 
in  the  war.  Mucianus  undid  Vitellius  by  a 
fame  that  he  scattered,  that  Vitellius  had  Id 
purpose' to  move  the  legions  of  Syria  into 
Germany,  and  the  legions  of  Germany  into 
Syria;  whereupon  the  legions  of  Syria  were 
infinitely  inflamed.  Julius  Cassar  took  Pom- 
pey  unprovided,  and  laid  asleep  his  industry 
and  preparations  by  a  fame  that  be  cunning- 


OF  FAME.  265 

\y  gave  out,  how  Caesar's  own  soldiers  loved 
him  not;  and  being  wearied  with  the  wars, 
and  laden  with  the  spoils  of  Gaul,  would  for- 
sake him  as  soon  as  he  catne  into  Italy. 
Livia  settled  all  things  for  the  succession  of 
her  son  Tiberius,  by  continually  giving  out 
that  her  husband  Augustus  was  upon  reco- 
very and  amendment  ;  and  it  is  an  usual 
thing  with  the  bashaws,  to  conceal  the  death 
of  the  Great  Turk  from  the  janizaries  and 
men  of  war,  to  save  the  sacking  of  Constan- 
tinople, and  other  towns,  as  their  manner  is. 
Themistocles  made  Xerxes,  king  of  Persia, 
post  apace  out  of  Graecia,  by  giving  out  that 
the  Grecians  had  a  purpose  to  break  his 
bridge  of  ships  which  he  had  made  athwart 
the  Hellespont.  There  be  a  thousand  such 
like  examples,  and  the  more  they  are  the 
less  they  need  to  be  repeated,  because  a 
man  meeteth  with  them  every  where : 
wherefore  let  alt  wise  governors  have  as 
great  a  watch  and  care  over  fames,  as  they 
have  of  the  actions  and  designs  themselves. 

THE  REST  WAS  NOT  FINISHED. 


INDEX. 


So.  Page 

L    Of  Troth     ....----13 

II.    .  .  Death 17 

HI.  .  )  Unity  in  Rdigjon  .--..•  20 
rV.  .  .  Revenge  -....--27 
V.  .  •  Adversity  ...----29 
TI.    ..  Simulation  and  Disrimulation     .       -       .       31 

VII.    .  .  Parents  and  Children 36 

Vin.    .  .  Marriage  and  Single  life     -       ...       38 

IX.    .  .  Envy ...41 

X.    .  .  Love 49 

XI.    . .  Great  Place 52 

XIL    .  .  Boidnen 57 

Xin.    .  .  Goodness,  and  Goodness  of  Nature       .       -    60 

•    XIV.    .  .  A  King 64 

XV.    .  .  Nobility 68 

XVI.    .  .  Seditions  and  Troables        ....        70 

XVII.    .  .  Athrisra 82 

XVai.    .  .  Superstition  ......        gft 

XIX.    .  .Travel     ........89 

XX.    .  .  Empire  ...        ..-.92 

XXI.    ..Counsel    ........00 

XXIL    .  .  Delays .07 

XXIII.  .  .  Cunning  -        .        .        ..        ..109 

XXIV.  .  .  Wisdom  for  a  Man's  Self  ....      115 
XXV.    .  .  Innovations       ..--...  117 

XXVI.    .  .Dispatch       .......      119 

XXVII.    .  .  Setmmg  Wise         ......  123 

XXVUL    .  .  Frieudihip    -       .       ...       .       .       .124 

XXIX.    .  .  Expeuse 136 

XXX.    .  .  Tbe  True  Greatness  of  Kingdoou  and  Estatts  138 


268 


INDEX. 


Ko.  Page 

XXXI.    of  Regiraeii  of  Health 153 

XXXII.     .  .  Suspicion 155 

XXXllI      .   .Discourse -157 

XXXIV.     .  .  Plantations 160 

XXXV.     .  .  Ridit-s 165 

XXXVI.     .  .  Ii-ophecies -171 

XXXVII.     .  .  Aiiibiiion 175 

XXXVIIL  .  Masques  and  Triumphs        .        .        -        •      179 

XXXIX.    .  .  Natun  iii  Meu 181 

XL.  .  .  Custom  and  Education         ....      184 

XLI.  .  .  Fuitui>e    ........1S7 

XLII.    .  .  Usury 190 

XLIII.    .  .  Youth  and  Age 198 

XLIV.     .  .Btauty .      199 

XLV.  .  .  Dtformity         .        .       ^       .        .        .        .201 

X1.VI      .  .  Building       - 203 

XL\n[I.    .  .  Gardens 209 

XLV  HI.    .  .  Ni'gociating 820 

XLIX.  ,  .  Followers  and  Frieiids      .....  222 

1»  .  .  Suitors           .......       225 

LI.    .  .  Studies     -        .  ' 238 

LII.  .  .  Faction         .....         .        .      230 

LIII .  .  .  Ceremonies  aitd  Respects        ....  233 

LIV.    .  .  Praise    .,. 235 

LV      .     Vain  Glory 238 

LVI.  .  .  Honour  and  Reputation.      ....      241 

LVII.  .  .  Judicatui-e        .......  244 

LVIII.  .  .  An?w  •-......      250 

LIX.  .  .  Vicissitude  of  Things      .....  254 

LX.  A  Fragnieiji  of  an  Essay  on  Fame     ...      263 


MORAL  AND  ENTERTAIMNG, 


KIGHT    HONOURABLE 


jEdward,  earl  of  clarendon. 


MDCCCXX. 


\s  an  historian,  Lord  CLARtcNOON'fl  reputation  is  tM 
Srinly  fixed  now  to  be  afTecled  by  either  praise  or  ceh» 
sure  : — If,  as  a  moral  writer,  lie  appear  with  less  advan- 
tage than  his  illustrious  predecessor,  his  style,  and  its 
leugtliened  periods,  will  readily  be  endured,  for  the  sound- 
ness of  his  opinions  and  the  integrity  of  his  miad. 

Until  within  these  few  years  his  EfSAVs,  which  now 
form  a  suitable  compAnion  to  those  of  Lorb  Bacon,  were 
not  disengaged  from  the  bulky  folio  in  which  only  they 
were  to  be  found :  in  this  edition,  it  has  been  thought  pro* 
per  to  omit  three,  which,  f.oin  their  extreme  length,  rather 
claim  to  be  considered  as  dissertations  :  their  titles  are, 
"  On  on  active  and  contemplative  Ln/e.  and  when  and  nhy 
the  one  ought  to  be  pre/erred  before  iht  other ;"  '•  Of  the 
Reverence  due  to  Antiquity;"  "  J  gainst  the  multiplying 
Controversies,  by  insisting  upon  Particulars  that  are  not 
necessary  to  the  Point  in  Debate."  These  are  togetlier 
equHJ  in  quantity  to  tiie  remftininj;  twenty-two,  which 
form  the  contents  of  the  present  volume. 

Sept.  1«10. 


ESSAYS. 


I.     OF    HUMAN    NATURE. 

Moo^llier,  1M8. 

The  perpetual  fear  and  agony  and  appre- 
hension, which  wicked  men  always  feel 
within  themselves,  is  the  argument  that 
Epicurus  made,  that  human  nature'  is  so  far 
from  being  inclined  to  ill,  that  it  abhors  all 
kind  of  wickedness;  "quia  infixa  nobis  ejus 
rei  aversatio  est,  quam  natura  damnavit, 
ideo  nunquam  fides  latendi  fit  etiam  latenti- 
bus;"  and  the  frequent  discoveries  of  very 
enormous  crimes  after  long  concealments, 
merely  from  the  unquietness  of  the  offen- 
ders' own  breasts,  manifests  how  far  our 
nature  is  from  being  delighted  with  works 
of  darkness,  that  it  cannot  rest  till  they  be 
exposed  to  light.  If  we  did  not  take  great 
pains,  and  were  not  at  great  expense  to  cor- 
rupt  our  nature,  our  nature  would  never 


6  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

corrupt  us:  We  administer  all  the  helps  of 
industry  and  art  to  provoke  our  appetites, 
and  to  inflame  our  blood,  and  then  we  ac- 
cuse nature  for  leading  us  into  excesses;  we 
kindle  that  fire  that  kindles  our  lust  with  a 
licentious  diet,  and  then  fan  it  into  a  flame 
with  obscene  discourses,  and  revile  nature 
that  it  will  not  permit  us  to  be  chaste;  we 
provoke  and  cherish  our  anger  with  unchris- 
tian principles  of  revenge,  and  then  inveigh 
against  nature  for  making  us  choleric:  when, 
God  knows,  the  little  good  we  have  in  us, 
we  owe  only  to  the  integrity  of  our  nature; 
which  hath  restrained  us  from  mjiny  vices 
which  our  passions  would  hurry  us  into. 
Very  many  men  have  remained  or  become 
temperate,  by  the  very  nauseating  and  aver- 
sion that  nature  hath  to  surfeits  and  exces- 
ses; and  others  have  been  restrained  from 
making  wicked  attempts,  by  the  horror  and 
trembling  that  nature  hath  suggested  to  them 
in  the  approach.  Many  excellent  men  have 
grown  to  rare  perfections  in  knowledge  and 
in  practice,  to  great  learning,  great^wisdom, 
great  virtue,  without  ever  having  felt  the 
least  repugnance  in  their  nature  to  interrupt 
them  in  their  progress;  on  the  contrary 
their  inclinations  have  been  strengthened, 
their  vivacity  increased,  from  the  very  im- 


OF    HUMAN    NATURE.  V 

pulsion  of  their  nature:  but  we  may  reasona- 
bly  believe,  that  never  man  made  a  great 
progress  in  wickedness,  so  as  to  arrive  at  a 
mastery  in  it,  without  great  interruption  and 
contradiction  from  his  natural  genius:  inso- 
much as  we  see  men  usually  take  degress  in 
wickedness,  and  come  tSot  to  a  perfection  in 
it  per  saltttm  ;  which  can  proceed  from  noth- 
ing but  the  resistance  it  finds  from  the 
nature  of  man.  And  if  we  do  seriously  con- 
sider, how  few  men  there  are  who  endea- 
vour by  art  or  industry  to  cultivate  that  por- 
tion which  nature  hath  given  them,  to  im- 
prove their  understanding,  and  to  correct 
any  infirmity  they  may  be  liable  to,  by  so 
much  as  abstaining  from  any  vice  which 
corrupts  both  body  and  mind;  we  must  con- 
clude that  they  owe  that  which  is  good  in 
themselves  to  nature,  since  they  have  noth- 
ing by  their  own  acquisition.  We  cannot 
justly  be  reproached,  that  in  this  magnilying 
and  extolling  nature,  we  do  too  much  neg- 
lect and  ondei-value  the  influence  of  God's 
grace;  nature  is  as  much  the  creation  of  God 
as  grace  is;  and  it  is  his  bounty  that  he 
created  nature  in  that  integrity,  and  hath 
since  restored  it  to  that  innocence,  or  annex- 
ed that  innocence  to  it,  if  it  be  not  mali- 
ciously ravished,  or  let  loose,  from  it.     All 


ft  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

the  particulars  mentioned  before  may  pro- 
perly be  called  the  operation  of  nature,  be- 
cause they  have  been  often  found  in  those 
who  have  had  no  light  of  grace,  and  may  be 
still  thought  to  be  the  supply  of  nature  in 
those  who  seem  not  to  walk  by  that  light; 
nor  is  the  price  of  grace  at  all  advanced,  or 
the  way  to  attain  it  made  more  clear  and 
easy,  by  such  an  affected  contempt  of  na- 
ture, which  makes  us  only  capable  of  the 
other. 


II.      OF    LIFE. 

Jtxtej,  1847. 

"So  teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that 
we  may  "apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom," 
was  the  ejaculation  of  Moses,  when  he 
was  in  full  contemplation  of  the  provi- 
dence and  power  of  God,  and  of  the  frailty 
and  brevity  of  the  life  of  man:  And  though, 
from  the  consideration  of  our  own  time, 
the  days  allotted  for  our  life,  we  cannot 
make  any  proportionable  prospect  toward 
the  providence  and  power  of  God,  no  more 
than  we  can  make  an  estimate  of  the  large- 
iness  and  extent  of  the  heavens  by  the  view 
of  the  smallest  cottage  or  molehill  upon  the 
earth;  yet  there  cannot  be  a  better  expedient. 


OF    LIFE.  y 

at  the  least  an  easier,  a  thing  we  believe  we 
can  more  easily  practise,  to  bring  ourselves 
to  a  due  reverence  of  that  providence,  to  a 
due  apprehension  of  that  power,  and  there- 
Tipon  to  a  useful  disposition  of  our  time  in  this 
world,  how  frail  and  short  soever  it  is,  than 
by  applying  ourselves  to  this  advice  of 
Moses,  to  "learn  to  number  our  days." 
There  is  not  a  man  that  reads,  or  hears  this 
lead,  but  thinks  the  lesson  may  be  learned 
vrith  little  pains;  nay,  that  he  hath  it  so  per- 
fect, that  he  needs  not  learn  it:  and  yet  if 
the  best  of  us  would  but  fix  our  minds  upon 
itj  sadly  "number  our  days,"  the  days  which 
we  have  or  shall  have  in  this  world,  we 
could  not  but,  out  of  that  one  single  notion, 
make  ourselves  much  the  fitter  for  the  next; 
and  if  the  worst  of  u&  would  but  exercise 
ourselves  in  it,  but  "number  our  days,"  we 
should  even  in  spite  of  the  worst  cozen  our- 
selves into  some  amendment  of  life,  into 
some  improvement  of  knowledge,  into  some 
reformation  of  understnnding:  it  would  not 
be  in  our  power,  nor  in  His  who  is  ready  to 
assist  us  in  any  evil,  to  continue  so  weak,  so 
wilful,  so  wicked  as  we  are;  but  we  should 
insensibly  find  such  an  alteration,  as,  how 
much  soever  we  contemn  now,  we  shall 
thank  ourselves  for  obtaining;. 


19  LORD  clarendon's  ESSAYS. 

They  who  understand  the  original,  tell  us, 
that  the  Hebrew  verb,  which  our  interpre- 
ters translate  into  number,  hath  a  very  large 
signification,  (as  that  language  which  is  con- 
tracted into  fewest  words  extends  many"^ 
words  to  a  marvellous  latitude  of  sense), 
and  that  as  well  as  to  number,  it  signifies  to 
weish,  and  to  ponder,  and,  thirdly,  to  order, 
and  appoint;  so  that  to  number,  or  any  other 
single  word,  I  believe,  in  any  other  tongue, 
is  far  from  expressing  to  the  full  the  sense 
of  that  Hebrew  verb;  except  we  could  find 
a  word  that  might  signify  to  reckon  to  exa- 
mine, and  consider  the  nature  and  the  use  of 
every  unit  in  that  reckoning,  and  then  to 
order  and  appoint  it  accordingly.  And  no 
doubt  it  was  such  a  numbering,  with  that 
circumstance  of  deliberation,  and  the  other 
of  direction  and  determination,  which  Moses 
here  prescribed;  and  so  the  duty  may  seem 
larger,  and  at  first  more  full  of  difficulty, 
than  it  did;  and  that  we  are  not  to  rest 
merely  in  the  arithmetical  sense  of  it.  But 
as  the  setting  out  is  oftentimes  more  trouble- 
some than  the  whole  journey,  and  the  first 
disposal  of  the  mind  to  sobriety  and  virtue, 
is  more  difficult  than  any  progress  after  in  it; 
so  if  we  but  really  and  severely  execute  this 
injunction  in  the  usual  and  vulgar  acceptation 


OF    LIFE.  11 

of  the  word,  no  more  but  '*  number  our 
days,"  by  the  rules  of  arithmetic,  we  should 
make  a  progress  in 'the  other  acceptances 
too;  and  we  should  find  evident  comfort  and 
benefit  from  the  fruit  we  should  gather  from 
each  ot  those  branches. 

Without  diminishing  or  lessening  the  value 
of  a  long  life,  with  the  meditation  that  a 
thousand  years  are  but  as  yesterday  in  His 
sight  who  made  the  years  and  the  days; 
or  that  not  only  the  longest  life  that  ever 
any  man  hath  lived,  but  even  the  life  that 
the  world  hath  lived  since  the  creation,  is 
but  a  moment  in  comparison  of  that  eternity 
which  must  be  either  the  reward  or  punish- 
ment of  the  actions  of  our  life,  how  short 
sopver  it  is:  if  we  did  but  so  "  number  our 
days"  as  to  consider  that  we  experimentally 
find  the  shortness  of  them;  if  we  did  but 
number  the  days  we  have  lived,  and  by 
th.it  pregnant  evidence  of  our  memory,  how 
soon  they  are  gone,  and  how  insensibly,  con- 
clude how  very  soon  so  much  more  time, 
which  possibly  would  bring  us  to  the  utmost 
of  Moses's  account  of  eighty  years,  will  like- 
wise pass  away;  we  could  not  think  the 
most  sure  and  infallible  purchase  of  twenty 
or  thirty  years  of  life,  and  the  unquestiona- 
ble fruition  of  the  most  heightened  pleasures 


12  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

the  appetite  or  fancy  can  imagine  during  that 
term,  without  any  abatement  by  the  interpo- 
sition of  the  infirmities  and  weakness  of  na- 
ture, or  the  interruption  of  accidents,  so 
near  worth  the  consenting  to  any  thing  that 
may  impair  the  conscience,  or  disturb  the 
peace  or  quiet  of  the  mind,  that  it  were  a 
valuable  consideration  for  the  interruption 
of  a  night's  cest,  for  the  parting  with  six 
hours  of  our  sleep;  which,  though  any  man 
could  spare,  is  so  much  time  of  our  least 
faultiness:  I  say,  it  were  not  possible  serious- 
ly to  make  this  estimate  in  our  thoughts,  to 
revolve  the  uncertainty  and  brevity  of  our 
IWe,  but  we  should  also  take  an  account  of 
ourselves,  weigh  and  ponder  the  expense  of 
every  article  of  this  short  precious  time,  for 
which  we  must  make  so  large  and  exact  an 
account  to  Him  that  hath  trusted  us  with  it; 
we  should  not  but  (which  is  no  more  than 
the  original  verb  for  which  we  read  number 
signifies)  do,  what  one  who  we  are  not  wil- 
ling to  believe  as  good  a  Christian  as  our- 
selves long  since  advised  us,  "  pretinm  tem- 
pori  ponere,  diem  aestimare,"  consider  that 
every  hour  is  worth  at  least  a  good  thought, 
a  good  wish,  a  good  endeavour;  that  it  is  the 
talent  we  are  trusted  with  to  use,  employ, 
and  to  improve:  if  we  hide  this  talent  in  the 


OF    LIFE.  13 

dark,  that  the  world  cannot  see  any  fruit  of 
it,  or  such  fruit  as  we  ourselves  are  afraid 
to  see;  if  we  bury  it  in  the  earth,  spend  it 
in  worldly  and  sensual  designs  and  attempts; 
we  are  those  ungrateful  and  unthrifty  stew- 
ards, who  must  expiate  this  breach  of  trust 
in  endless  torments.     And  if  we  were  gotten 
thus  far,  we  could  not  but,  in  spite  of  the 
most  depraved  faculty  of  our  understanding, 
of  the  most  perverse  inclination  of  our  appe- 
tite, or  act  of  our  will,  order  and  dispose  of 
this  time  right;  which  is  the  full  extent  of 
the  word.     So  that  in  truth,  if  we  do  not 
weigh  and  consider  to  what  end  this  life  is 
given  to  us,  and  thereupon  order  and  dis- 
pose it  right,  pretend  what  we  will  to  the 
arithmetic,  we  do  not,  we  cannot  so  much 
as  number  our  days  in  the  narrowest  and 
most    limited   signification.      It  is   a  sharp 
meditation  and  animadversion  of  one,  whose 
writings  are  an  honour  to  our  nation,  that 
the  incessant  and  Sabbathless  pursuit  of  a 
man's  fortune  and  interest  (although  therein 
we  could  refrain  from  doing  injuries  or  using 
evil  arts)  leaves  not  the  tribute  of  our  time 
which  we  owe  to  God,  who  demandeth  we 
see  a  tenth  of  our  substance,  and  a  seventh 
(which   is   more   strict)   of  our  time;    and 
(says  he)  it  is  to  small  purpose  to  have  an 


14  LORD    CLARRNDOn's   ESSAYS. 

erected  face  toward  Heaven,  and  a  grovel- 
ling spirit  upon  earth.  If  they  who  please 
thepiselves  with  believing  that  they  spend 
their  time  the  least  amiss;  who  have  so  far 
the  negative  practice  of  conscience,  that 
they  abstain  tVom  acts  of  inhumanity  and 
injustice,  and  avoid  doing  harm  to  any  body; 
.nay,  if  they  make  such  a  progress  into  the 
active  part  of  conscience,  as  to  delight  in 
the  civil  acts  of  humanity,  and  the  diffusive 
acts  of  charity:  1  say,  if  this  handful  of  the 
world  that  is  thus  innocent  (and  what  dismal 
account  must  the  other  part  take  of  them- 
selves then)  would  seriously  examine  and 
revolve  the  expense  of  their  own  time, 
they  would  even  wonder  at  the  little  good, 
they  find  in  themselves,  and  not  be  able  to 
tell  to  the  well-spending  of  what  part  of 
their  time  those  good  inclinations  are  to 
be  imputed.  We  think  it  a  commendable 
thing  (and  value  ouri*elves  much  upon  it)  to 
take  great  pains,  to  use  much  industry,  to 
tnake  ourselves  fine  gentlemen,  to  get  lan- 
guages, to  learn  arts;  it  may  be  some  for 
which  we  are  the  worse:  and  we  acknow- 
ledge, that  that  is  not  to  be  done,  nay,  any 
exercise  of  the  body  to  be  learned,  or  the 
most  mechanic  trade,  without  great  pains  and 
ipdustryj  but  to  make  ourselves  Christians, 


OF    LIFE.  15^ 

to  know  God,  and  what-he  expects  from  us, 
and  what  will  be  acceptable  to  him,  we  take 
not  the  least  pains,  use  not  the  least  industry. 
1  am  persuaded,  if  many  of  us,  who  have 
lived  to  good  years,  did  faithfully  compute  in 
what  particular  meditations  and  actions  we 
have  spent  our  time,  we  should  not  be  able, 
umongst  the  years  we  have  spent  in  pursuing 
our  pleasures,  our  profits,  our  ambition,  the 
days  and  nights  we  have  dedicated  to  our 
lusts,  our  excesses,  the  importunities  and 
solicitations  we  have  used  to  mend  our  for- 
tunes; we  should  not  be  able  to  set  down 
one  hour  for  every  year  of  our  life,  I  fear 
not  one  hour  for  our  whole  life,  which  we 
have  solemnly  spent  to  mend  our  Christiani- 
ty; in  which  we  have  devoutly  considered 
the  majesty  and  providence  and  goodness  of 
God,  the  reason  and  the  end  of  our  own 
creation;  that  there  is  such  a  place  as 
Heaven  for  the  reward  of  those  who  do 
well,  or  Hell  for  the  punishment  of  the 
wicked:  for  if  we  had  spent  but  one  hour 
in  the  contemplating  those  particulars,  which 
are  the  first  and  most  general  notions  of 
Christianity,  it  were  not  possible  but  we 
should  be  startled  out  of  our  lethargic  lazi- 
ness, and  should  make  some  progress  in  the 
practice  of  Christianity,  as  well  as  in  those 


16  LORD  CLARBNDON^S  ESSilYS. 

paths  and  roads  that  lead  to  our  pleasure  or 
profit.  What  is  this  inadvertency  and  in- 
-cogitancy,  but  to  believe  that,  as  we  receiv- 
ed this  badge  of  Christianity  in  our  infancy 
when  we  knew  not  of  it,  so  it  will  grow  and 
increase  upon  us  in  our  sleep  and  times  of 
leisure,  without  taking  notice  of  it?  that  the 
little  water  that  was  thrown  upon  our  face  in 
baptism,  was  enough  to  preserve  the  beauty 
of  God's  image  in  us,  without  any  addition  of 
moisture  from  ourselves,  either  by  tears  in 
our  repentance,  or  so  much  as  by  sweat  in 
our  industry  and  labour?  and  to  declare  to 
all  the  world,  that  we  bold  the  life  of  a 
Christian  to  be  nothing  else,  but  spending  so 
many  days  as  nature  allows  us,  in  a  climate 
where  the  gospel  of  Christ  is  suffered  to  be 
preached,  how  little  soever  desired  to  be 
practised?  If  we  would  so  "  number  our 
days,",  that  is,  so  consider  of  them,  as  to 
order  and  dispose  some  part  of  our  time, 
one  hour  in  a  day,  one  day  in  ten,  but  to 
think  of  God,  and  what  he  hath  done  for  us; 
to  rf'member  that  we  are  Christians,  and  the 
obligation  that  thereby  lies  upon  us;  that 
thej-e  will  be  a  day  of  judgment,  and  that 
we  must  appear  at  that  day:  though  it  may 
be  it  would  be  a  difficult  thing  at  the  first,  in 
that  set  time,  to  apply  our  unexercised  and 


OP    LIFE.  17 

uuinl'ornied  thoughts  to  so  devout  and  reli- 
gious an  exercise  as  we  should;  yet,  I  say, 
if  we  would  but  so  set  apart  a  time  for  that 
purpose,  as  to  resolve  at  that  time  constant- 
ly to  do  nothing  else,  how  perfunctorily 
soever  we  did  that,  we  should  by  degrees 
bring  ourselves  from  sober  and  humble 
thoughts,  to  pious  and  godly  thoughts,  till 
we  found  ourselves  so  growing  to  perfect 
Christians,  as  to  confess  we  were  not 
worthy  of  that  title  before. 

Next  the  sadness  of  reviewing  the  expense 
of  our  time,  in  order  to  our  service  of  God, 
and  the  health  and  prosperity  of  our  souls; 
it  is  a  melancholy  consideration  how  we 
spend  our  time  with  reference  to  ourselves, 
to  the  obtaining  that  which  we  most  desire, 
to  consider  how  our  time  goes  from  us;  for 
we  are  hardly  active  enough  to  be  thought 
to  spend  it.  We  live  rather  the  life  of  vege- 
tatives  or  sensatives,  suffer  ourselves  to 
grow,  and  please  and  satisfy  our  appetites, 
than  the  lives  of  reasonable  men,  endued 
with  faculties  to  discern  the  natures  and  dif- 
ferences of  things,  and  to  use  and  govern 
both.  There  is  not  a  man  in  the  world, 
but  desires  to  be,  or  to  be  thought  to  be,  a 
wise  man;  and  yet,  if  he  considered  how 
little  he  contributes  himself  thereunto,  he 

VOL.  V.  19 


18  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

might  wonder  to  find  himself  in  any  tolerable 
degree  of  understanding.  How  many  men 
are  there,  nay,  in  comparison  of  mankind, 
how  few  are  there  but  such,  who  since  they 
were  ahle  to  think,  and  could  choose  whe- 
ther they  would  or  no,  never  seriously 
spent  two  hours  by  themselves  in  so  much 
as  thinking  what  would  make  them  wiser; 
but  sleep  and  eat  and  play,  which  makes 
the  whole  circle  of  their  lives,  and  are  not 
in  seven  years  together  (except  asleep)  one 
hour  by  themselves.  It  is  a  strange  thing,  to 
see  the  care  and  solicitude  that  is  used  to 
strengthen  and  cherish  the  body;  the  study 
and  industry  and  skill  to  form  and  shape  every 
member  and  limb  to  beauty  and  comeliness;  to 
teach  the  hands  and  feet  and  eyes  the  order  and 
gracefulness  of  motion;  to  cure  any  defects 
of  nature  or  accident,  with  any  hazard  and 
pain,  insomuch  as  we  oftentimes  see  even 
those  of  the  weaker  sex,  and  less  inclined 
to  suffering,  willingly  endure  the  breaking 
of  a  bone  that  cannot  otherwise  be  made 
straight;  and  all  this  ado  but  to  make  a  hand- 
some and  beautiful  person,  which  at  best  is 
but  the  picture  of  a  man  or  woman,  without 
a  wise  soul:  when  to  the  information  and 
improvement  of  that  jewel,  which  is  the  es- 
sence of  man;  and  which  unconsidered,  even 


OF    LIFE.  19 

that  which  we  so  labour  for  and  are  proud  of, 
our  beauty  and  handsomeness,  is  by  many 
degrees  inferior  to  that  of  a  thousand  beasts 
and  other  creatures;  to  the  cultivating  and 
shaping  and  directing  of  the  mind,  we  give 
scarce  a  thought,  not  an  hour  of  our  life; 
never  suppress  a  passion,  never  reform  an 
affection;  insomuch  as  (though  never  age 
had  fewer  wise  men  to  shew  to  the  world) 
we  may  justly  wonder  we  are  not  all  fools 
and  idiots,  when  we  consider  how  little  we 
have  contributed  to  make  ourselves  other: 
and  doubtless  if  nature)  whom  we  are  ready 
to  accuse  of  all  our  weaknesses  and  per- 
versenesses)  had  not  out  of  her  store  boun- 
tifully supplied  us,  our  own  art  and  industry 
would  never  have  kept  up  our  faculties  to 
that  little  vile  height  they  are  at.  Neither 
in  truth  do  many  believe  or  understand  that 
there  needs  any  other  diligence  or  art  to  be 
applied  to  the  health  of  the  mind,  than  the 
sober  ordering  and  disposing  of  the  body; 
and  it  is  well  if  we  can  bring  ourselves  to 
that  reasonable  conclusion.  Whereas  when 
we  prescribe  ourselves  a  wholesome  and  or- 
derly course  of  diet,  for  the  strengthening 
of  our  natures,  and  confirming  our  healths; 
if  we  would  consider  what  diet  to  give  our 
minds,  what  books  to  read  for  the  informing 


20  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

and  strengthening  our  understandings,  and 
conclude  that  it  is  as  impossible  for  the  mind 
to  be  improved  without  those  sirpplies,  as 
for  the  body  to  subsist  without  its  natural 
food:  if,  when  we  allow  ourselves  recrea- 
tions and  exercises,  to  cherish  and  refresh 
our  spirits,  and  to  waste  and  dispel  humours, 
without  which  a  well-tempered  constitution 
cannot  be  preserved,  we  would  allow  some 
exercises  to  our  minds,  by  a  sober  and 
frank  conversation  with  learned,  honest,  and 
prudent  men,  whose  informations,  animad- 
versions, and  experience  might  remove  and 
expel  the  vanities  and  levities  which  infect 
our  understandings:  if  when  an  indisposition 
or  distemper  of  body,  an  ill  habit  of  health, 
calls  upon  us  to  take  a  rougher  course  with 
ourselves,  to  vomit  up  or  purge  away  those 
choleric  and  phlegmatic  and  melancholic  hu- 
mours, which  burn  and  cloy  and  suffocate 
the  vital  parts  and  passages;  to  let  out  that 
blood  which  is  too  rank,  too  corrupted  for 
our  veins,  and  to  expel  those  fumes  and  va- 
poui-s  which  hurt  our  stomachs  and  ascend 
to  our  brains:  if  we  would,  I  say,  as  dili- 
gently examine  the  distemper  of  our  minds, 
revolve  the  rage  and  fury  of  our  choler,  the 
duloess  and  laziness  of  our  phlegm,  the  sul- 
lenness  and  pride  of  our  melancholy;  if  we 


OF    LIFE.  31 

would  correct  this  affection,  and  draw  out 
that  passion;  expel  those  fumes  and  vapours 
of  ambition  which  disturb  and  corrupt  our 
reason  and  judgment,  by  sober  and  serious 
meditation  of  the  excellency  and  benefit  of 
patience,  alacrity,  and  contentedness;  that 
this  affection  and  this  passion  is  not  consis- 
tent with  sobriety  and  justice,  and  that  the 
satisfying  them  with  the  utmost  licence 
brings  neither  ease  nor  quiet  to  the  mind, 
which  is  not  capable  of  any  happiness  but  in, 
at  least  not  without,  its  own  innocence;  that 
ambition  always  carries  an  insatiableness 
with  it,  n^l^ich  is  a  torment  to  the  mind,  and 
no  less  a  disease  than  that  is  to  the  stomach: 
in  a  word,  if  we  would  consider,  there  is 
scarce  a  disease,  an  indisposition,  a  distem- 
per, by  which  the  body  is  disturbed,  to 
which,  or  some  influence  like  it,  the  mind 
is  not  liable  likewise;  and  that  the  remedies 
for  the  latter  are  much  more  natural,  more 
in  our  power,  than  for  the  former;  if  we 
would  use  but  half  the  diligence  and  indus- 
try to  apply  them  which  we  do  to  the  other 
we  should  find  ourselves  another  kind  of 
people,  our  understandings  more  vigorous, 
and  our  lives  more  innocent,  useful,  and  be- 
neficial, to  God,  to  ourselves,  and  to  our 
country;  and  we  should  think  we  had  learn- 


22  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

ed  nothing,  till  we  had  learned  "so  to  num- 
ber our  days  that  we  might  apply  our  hearts 
unto  wisdom;"  that  wisdom,  of  which  the 
fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning,  and  of 
which  the  eternal  blessing  of  God  is  the  end 
and  the  reward. 


in.      REFLECTIONS   ON  THE    HAPPINESS  WHICH 
WE  MAY  ENJOY,  IN  AND  FROM  OURSELVES. 

Mcxitpellier,  IMO. 

It  was  a  very  just  reproach  that  Seneca 
charged  the  world  with  so  many  hundred  years 
ago,  and  yet  was  not  more  the  disease  of 
that  than  of  this  age,  that  we  wonder  and 
complain  of  the  pride  and  superciliousness 
of  those  who  are  in  place  and  authority 
above  us;  that  we  cannot  get  an  admittance  to 
them;  that  they  are  never  at  leisure  that  we 
may  speak  to  them;  when  (says  he)  we  are 
never  vacant  never  at  leisure  to  speak  to 
ourselves;  "Audet  quispiam  de  alterius  su- 
perbia  queri,  qui  sibi  ipse  nunquam  vacat?" 
and  after  all  complaints  and  murmurs,  the 
greatest  and  the  proudest  of  them  will  be 
sometimes  at  leisure,  maybe  sometimes  spo- 
ken with;  "aliquando  respexit,  tu  non  inspi- 
cere  te  unquam,  non  audire  dignatus  es;"  we 


REFLECTIONS    ON    HAPPINESS.  23 

can  never  get  an  audience  of  ourselves,  ne- 
ver vouchsafe  to  confer  together.     We  are 
diligent  and  curious  enough  to  know  other 
men;  and  it  may   be   charitable  enough   to 
assist  them,   to  inform  their  weakness   by 
our  instruction,  and  to  reform   their  errors 
by    our   experience:    and     all  this  without 
giving  one  moment  to   look   into  our   own, 
never   make  an  inspection   into  ourselves, 
Bor  ask  one  of  those  questions  of  ourselves 
which  we  are  ready  to  administer  to  others, 
and  thereby  imagine  that  we  have  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  them.      We  live  with  other 
men,  and  to  other  men;  neither  with  nor  to 
•ourselves.     We  may  sometimes  be  at  home, 
left  to  ourselves,  when  others  are  weary  of 
us,  and  we  are  weary   of  being  with  them; 
but  we  do  not  dwell  at  home,  have  no  com- 
merce, no  conversation  with  ourselves,  nay, 
we   keep  spies   about  us   that    we  may  not 
have;  and  if  we  feel  a  suggestion,   hear  an 
importunate  call  from  within,  we  divert  it  by 
company  or  quiet  it  with  sleep;    and  when 
we  wake,  no  man  runs  faster  from  an  enemy 
than    we    do    from  ourselves,   get   to   our 
friends  that  we  may  not  be  with  ourselves. 
This  is  not  only  an   epidemical  disease  that 
spreads  every  where,  but  effected  and  pur- 
chased at  as  great  a  price  as  most  other  of 


24  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

our  diseases,  with  the  expense  of  all  our 
precious  time;  one  moment  of  which  we  are 
not  willing  to  bestow  upon  ourselves,  though 
it  would  make  the  remainder  of  it  more  use- 
ful to  us,  and  to  others  upon  whom  we  pro- 
digally consume  it,  without  doing  good  to 
ihem  or  ourselves:  whereas,  if  we  would  be 
conversant  with  ourselves,  and  as  ingenuous 
and  impartial  in  that  conversation  as  we  pre- 
tend to  be  with  other  men,  we  should  find 
that  we  have  very  much  of  that  at  home  by 
us,  which  we  take  wonderful  unnecessary 
pains  to  get  abroad;  and  that  we  have  much 
of  that  in  our  own  disposal,  which  we  en- 
deavour to 'Obtain  from  others;  and  possess 
ourselves  of  that  happiness  from  ourselves, 
whether  it  concerns  our  ambition  or  ,any 
other  of  our  most  exorbitant  passions  or  af- 
fections, which  more  provoke  and  less  satisfy 
by  resorting  to  other  men,  who  are  either 
not  willing  to  gratify  us,  or  not  able  to  com- 
ply with  our  desires;  and  the  trouble  and 
agony,  which  for  the  most  part  accompanies 
those  disappointments,  proceeds  merely  from 
our  not  beginning  with  ourselves  before  we 
repair  to  others. 

It  is  not  the  purpose  and  end  of  this 
discourse,  to  raise  such  seiaphical  notions 
of  the  vanity  and  pleasures  of  this  world,  as 


REFLECTIOKS   ON   HAPPINESS.  25 

if  they  were  not  worthy  to  be  considered, 
or  could  have  no  relish  with  virtuous  and 
pious  men.  They  take  very  unprofitable 
pains,  who  endeavour  to  persuade  men  that 
they  are  obliged  wholly  to  despise  this 
world  and  all  that  is  in  it,  even  whilst 
ihey  themselves  live  here:  God  hath  not 
taken  all  that  pains  in  forming  and  framing 
and  furnishing  and  adorning  this  world, 
that  they  who  were  made  by  him  to  live 
in  it  should  despise  it;  it  will  be  enough  if 
they  do  not  love  it  so  immoderately,  to 
prefer  it  before  Him  who  made  it:  nor  shall 
we  endeavour  to  extend  the  notions  of  the 
Stoic  philosophers,  and  to  stretch  them 
farther  by  the  help  of  Christian  precepts, 
to  the  extinguishing  all  those  affections  and 
passions,  which  are  and  will  always  be  inse- 
parable from  human  nature;  and  which  it 
were  to  be  wished  that  many  Christians  could 
govern  and  suppress  and  regulate,  as  well  as 
many  of  those  heathen  philosophers  used  to 
do.  As  long  as  the  world  lasts,  and  honour 
and  virtue  and  industry  have  reputation  in 
the  world,  there  will  be  ambition  and  emu- 
lation and  appetite  in  the  best  and  most  ac- 
coni[)lished  men  who  live  in  it;  if  there 
should  not  be,  more  barbarity  and  vice 
and   wickedness  would  cover  every  nation 


26  LORD    CLARENDOir's  ESSAYS. 

of  the  world,  than  it  yet  suffers  under.  If 
wise  and  honest  and  virtuously-disposed 
men  quit  the  field,  and  leave  the  world  to 
the  pillai^e,  and  the  manners  of  it  to  the  de- 
formation of  persons  dedicated  to  rapine, 
luxury,  and  injustice,  how  savage  must  it 
grow  in  half  an  age!  nor  will  the  best  princes 
be  able  to  govern  and  preserve  their  sub- 
jects, if  the  best  men  be  without  ambition 
and  desire  to  be  employed  and  trusted  by 
them.  The  end  therefore  of  this  specula- 
tion into  ourselves,  and  conversation  with 
ourselves,  is,  that  we  may  make  our  journey 
towards  that  which  we  do  propose  with  the 
more  success  ;  that  we  may  be  discreet 
in  proposing  reasonable  designs,  and  then 
pursue  them  by  reasonable  ways;  foresee 
all  the  difficulties  which  are  probable  to  fall 
out,  that  so  we  may  prevent  or  avoid  them; 
since  we  may  be  sure  to  master  and  avoid 
them  to  a  great  degree  by  foreseeing 
them,  and  as  sure  to  be  confounded  by  them, 
if  they  fall  upon  us  without  foresight.  In 
a  word,  it  is  not  so  to  consult  with  ourselves, 
as  to  consult  with  nobody  else;  or  to  dispose 
us  to  prefer  our  own  judgment  before  any 
other  man's:  but  first,  by  an  impartial  con- 
ference with  ourselves,  we  may  understand 
first  our  own  mind,  what  it  is  we  would  have, 


REFLECTIONS  OJT  HAPPINESS.  27 

and  why  we  would  have  it,  before  we  con- 
sult with  others  which  way  to  compass  it, 
that  we  may  set  both  the  matter  we  desire 
and  the  manner  of  obtaining  it  before  our 
own  eyes,  and  spend  our  passions  upon 
ourselves  in  the  disquisition. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  when  we  are  prodi- 
gal of  nothing  else,  when  we  are  over-thrifty 
of  many  things  which  we  may  well  spare, 
we  are  very  prodigal  of  our  time,  which  is 
the  only  precious  jewel  of  which  we  cannot 
be  too  thrifty,  because  we  look  upon  it  as 
nothing  worth,  and  that  makes  us  not  care 
how  we  spend  it.  The  labouring  man  and 
the  artificer  knows  what  every  hour  of  his 
time  is  worth,  what  it  will  yield  him,  and 
parts  not  with  it  but  for  the  full  value:  they 
are  only  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  who 
should  know  best  how  to  use  it,  that  think 
it  only  fit  to  be  cast  away;  and  their  not 
knowing  how  to  set  a  true  value  upon  this, 
is  the  true  cause  of  the  wrong  estimate  they 
make  of  all  other  things;  and  their  ignorance 
of  that  proceeds  only  from  their  holding  no 
correspondence  with  themselves,  or  think- 
ing at  all  before  they  begin  their  journey, 
before  they  violently  set  their  afiiections 
upon  this  or  that  object,  until  they  find  they 
are   out  of  the  way,  and  meet  with  false 


28  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

guides  to  carry  them  forther  out.  We  should 
find  much  ease  in  our  pursuits,  and  probably 
much  better  success  in  our  attempts  and  en- 
terprises in  the  world,  if,  before  we  are  too 
solicitous  and  set  our  heart  upon  any  design, 
we  would  well  weigh  and  consider  the  true 
value  of  the  thing  we  desire,  whether  it  be 
indeed  worth  all  that  trouble  we  shall  be 
put  to,  and  all  the  time  we  are  like  to  spend 
in  the  obtaming  it,  and  upon  it  after  we  have 
obtained  it:  if  this  inquisition  doth  not  divert 
us,  as  it  need  not  to  do,  it  will  the  better 
prepare  and  dispose  us  to  be  satisfied  after 
we  have  it;  whereas  nothing  is  more  usual 
than  for  men  who  succeed  in  their  most  im- 
patient pretences,  to  be  more  unsatisfied 
with  their  success  than  they  were  before; 
it  is  not  worth  what  they  thought  or  were 
persuaded  it  would  be,  so  that  their  appetite 
is  not  at  all  allayed,  nor  their  gratitude  pro- 
voked, by  the  obligation;  a  little  previous 
consideration  would  have  better  fitted  the 
mind  to  contentedness  upon  the  issue,  or  di- 
verted it  from  affecting  what  would  not  be 
acceptable  when  obtained.  In  the  next 
pla'^e,  we  should  do  well  prudently  to  con- 
sider, whether  it  be  probable  that  we  shall 
obti'in  what  we  desire,  before  we  engage 
our  affections  and  our  passions  too  deeply  in 


REFLECTIONS  ON  HAPPINESS.  29 

the  prosecution  of  it;  not  that  we  may  not 
lawfully  affect  and  prosecute  an  interest  in 
which  it  is  very  probable  we  may  not  succeed. 
Men  who  always  succeed  in  what  they  go 
about,  are  often  the  worse  for  their  success; 
however,  we  are  not  naturally  delighted 
with  repulses,  and  are  commonly  angry  and 
sottishly  offended  with  those  who  obtain  that 
for  themselves  which  we  would  fain  have, 
and  as  unreasonably  with  those  who  favour 
them,  though  their  merit  be  above  our  own; 
and  therefore,  besides  the  consideration  of 
the  probability  that  we  may  be  disappointed 
of  our  end,  we  shall  do  well  to  consider 
likewise  the  opposition  we  are  like  to  meet 
in  the  way,  the  power  of  those  persons  who 
are  like  to  disfavour  our  pretences,  and 
whether  our  exposing  ourselves  to  their 
displeasure  may  not  be  a  greater  damage 
than  the  obtaining  all  that  we  desire  will  re- 
compense. These  and  the  like  reflections 
will  cost  us  very  little  time,  but  infinitely 
advance  and  improve  our  understanding; 
and  if  we  then  conclude  it  fit  to  proceed,  we 
shall  do  it  with  confidence,  and  be  disturbed 
with  no  accident  which  encounters  us,  and 
be  prepared  to  behave  ourselves  decently 
upon  the  repulse,  which  oftentimes  {.refers 
men  better  than  they   wished;  a  virtuous 


30  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

mind  appearing  with  more  lustre  io  the  re- 
jection than  in  the  reception  of  good  turns, 
and  consequently  reconciling  him  to  those 
who  knew  him  not  enough  before. 

These  considerations  will  be  most  impar- 
tially and  sincerely  debated  with  ourselves, 
yet  they  may  be  properly  enough  and  use- 
fully consulted  with  very  true  and  faithful 
friends,  if  indeed  we  abound  with  such  trea- 
sure. But  there  is  another  consideration  so 
proper  and  peculiar  for  ourselves,  and  to  be 
exactly  weighed  by  ourselves,  that  the  most 
faithful  friend  is  rarely  faithful  enough  to  be 
trusted  enough  in  the  disquisition,  and, 
which  is  worst  of  all,  we  do  not  wish  or  de- 
sire that  he  should  be  faithful;  that  is,  whe- 
ther we  are  in  truth  fit  and  worthy  of  the 
thing  we  do  affect  ;  if  it  be  an  honour, 
whether  it  be  not  too  great  for  us;  if  it  be 
an  office,  whether  we  are  equal  to  it;  that 
is,  fit  and  capable  to  discharge  and  execute 
it,  or  can  make  ourselves  so  by  the  industry 
and  diligence  we  are  like  to  contribute 
towards  it:  this  is  the  examination  we  come 
with  least  ingenuity  to,  and  friends  are  inge- 
nuous in  assisting  us  in;  and  yet  is  of  that 
importance,  that  much  of  the  happiness  of 
our  life  consists  in  it,  many  having  been 
made  unhappy  and  even  very  miserable  by 


REFLECTIONS  ON  HAPPINESS.  31 

preferment,  who  were  in  good  reputation 
without  it.  Tully  makes  it  a  necessary 
ingredient  in,  or  a  necessary  concomitant  of 
friendship  itself,  "Tantum  cuique  tribuen- 
dum  est,  primum,  quantum  ipse  efficere  pos- 
sis,  deinde  etiam  quantum  quem  diligas  atque 
adjuves,  possit  sustinere;"  it  is  a  very  impru- 
dent and  unjust  thing  to  oblige  a  friend  to  do 
that  out  of  his  friendship  to  thee,  which 
either  he  cannot  do,  or  not  without  great 
prejudice  to  himself;  but  it  is  an  impudent 
violation  of  friendship,  to  importune  him  to 
procure  a  favour  to  be  conferred  upon  thee 
which  thou  canst  not  sustain;  to  put  the  com- 
mand of  a  ship  into  thy  hand,  when  thou 
fcnowest  neither  the  compass  nor  the  rudder. 
There  are  as  great  incongruities  and  incapa- 
cities towards  the  execution  of  many  offices, 
which  do  not  appear  so  gross  to  the  first 
discovery.  This  scrutiny  cannot  be  so 
rigidly  and  eflfectually  made  without  well 
weighing,  in  the  first  place,  the  infinite  pre- 
judice that  befalls  ourselves,  if  we  are  in- 
competent for  that  place  or  oflice  which  we 
have  by  much  solicitation  obtained,  and  the 
unspeakable  and  irreparable  prejudice  we 
have  brought  upon  our  friends  who  obtained 
it  for  us.  How  many  men  have  we  known, 
who,  from  a  reservedness  in  their  nature. 


32  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

have  been  thought  to  observe  much,  and  by 
sa)fiug  little  have  been  believed  to  know 
much;  but  when  they  have  got  themselves 
into  an  office,  and  so  been  compelled  to 
speak  and  direct,  have  appeared  weak  and 
ignorant,  and  incapable  of  performing  their 
duty;  and  so  must  either  be  removed,  to 
their  own  shame  and  reproach,  or  be  con- 
tinued, to  the  public  detriment  and  dishon- 
our? How  much  better  had  it  been  for  such 
men  to  have  remained  unknown  and  secure 
under  the  shadow  of  their  friends'  good 
opinion,  than  to  have  been  exposed  to  the 
light,  and  made  known  only  by  the  discovery 
of  their  incredible  ignorance  !  We  have 
known  many  men  who,  in  a  place  to  which 
they  have  been  unhappily  promoted,  have 
appeared  scandalously  insufficient;  but  being 
removed  to  another  have  discharged  it  with 
notable  abilities:  yet  there  was  nothing  new 
in  liimself;  if  he  had  asked  advice  of  him- 
self, he  would  have  known  all  that  hath  fallen 
out  since  so  much  to  his  prejudice.  He  who 
hath  credit  with  his  prince,  or  with  his 
friend,  to  prefer  or  recommend  a  man  to  his 
near  and  entire  trust,  hath  a  great  trust  him- 
self reposed  in  him,  which  he  is  obliged  to 
dis»"ti  .liif  ivith  the  utmost  circumspection 
and  tidelity;  and  if  he  be  swayed  by  the  con- 


REFLECTIONS  ON  HAFFINESS.  33 

tidence  and  importunity,  or  corrupted  by 
his  own  affection,  and  recommends  thee  to 
an  employment,  which  when  thou  art  pos- 
sessed of  thou  canst  not  discharge,  with 
what  confusion  roust  he  look  upon  him  whom 
he  hath  deceived  and  betrayed,  or  can  he 
ever  look  again  to  be  depended  upon  or  ad- 
vised with  upon  the  like  affair?  Doing  good 
offices  and  good  turns  (as  men  call  it)  looks 
like  the  natural  effect  of  a  noble  and  a  gene- 
rous nature,  indeed  the  inclination  to  it  is 
an  argument  of  generosity;  but  a  precipitate 
entering  upon  the  work  itself,  and  embrac- 
ing all  opportunities  to  gratify  the  pretences 
of  unwary  men,  is  an  evidibnce  of  a  light 
and  easy  nature,  disposed,  at  other  men's 
charges,  to  get  himself  well  spoken  of. 

They  who  revolve  these  particulars,  can- 
not but  think  them  worthy  a  A'^ery  serious 
examination;  and  must  discern,  that  by  en- 
tering into  this  strict  consultation  with  them- 
selves in  or  before  the  beginning  of  any  bu- 
siness, they  shall  prevent  much  trouble  and 
labour  which  they  shall  not  be  able  after- 
wards to  avoid:  nor  can  they  prudently  or 
so  successfully  consult  with  others,  before 
they  first  deliberate  with  themselves  the 
very  method  and  manner  of  communicating 
with  another,  how  much  a  friend  soever, 

VOL.  V,  20 


34  LORD  clarendon's  ESSAYS. 

what  concerns  one's  self  requiring  as  much 
consideration  as  the  matter  itself.  But  there 
is  another  benefit  and  advantage  that  results 
from  this  intercourse  and  acquaintance  with 
ourselves,  more  considerable  than  any  thing 
which  hat.h  been  said,  which  is,  that  from 
this  communication  he  takes  more  care  to 
cultivate  and  improve  himself,  that  he  may 
be  equal  and  worthy  of  that  trust  which  he 
reposes  in  himself,  and  fit  to  consult  with 
and  govern  himself  by;  he  gets  as  much  in- 
formation from  books  and  wise  men,  as  may 
enable  him  to  answer  and  determine  those 
doubtful  questions  which  may  arise;  he  extin- 
guishes tliat  choler  and  prejudice  which  would 
interrupt  him  in  hearing,  and  corrupt  him  in 
judging  what  he  heais.  It  is  a  notable  injunc- 
tion that  Seneca  imposes,  who  knew  as  well 
as  any  man  what  man  could  bring  himself 
lo,  "  Dum  te  efficis  eum,  coram  quo  peccare 
«on  audeas;"  the  truth  is,  he  hath  too  little 
reverence  for  himself,  who  dares  do  that  in 
his  own  presence,  which  he  would  be  asham- 
ed, or  not  dare  to  do  before  another  man; 
and  it  is  for  want  of  acquaintance  with  our- 
selves, and  revolving  the  dignity  of  our  crea- 
tion, that  we  are  without  that  reverence. 
Who,  that  doth  consider  how  near  he  is  of 
kin  to  God  himself,  and  how  excellently  be 


REFLECTIONS    ON    HAPPINESS.  35 

is  qualified  by  him  to  judge  aright  of  all  the 
delusions  and  appearances  of  the  world,  if 
he  will  employ  those  faculties  he  hath  adorn- 
ed him  with;  that  nobody  is  able  to  deceive 
him,  if  he  doth  not  concur  and  contribute  to 
the  deceiving  himself:  I  say,  who  can  consi- 
der and  weigh  this,  and  at  the  same  time  bury 
all  those  faculties  of  the  discerning  soul  in 
sensual  pleasures,  laziness,  and  senseless  in- 
activity, and  as  much  as  in  his  power,  and 
God  knows  there  is  too  much  in  his  power, 
to  level  himself  with  the  beasts  that  perish? 
It  is  a  foolish  excuse  we  make  upon  all 
occasions  for  ourselves  and  other  men,  in 
our  laboured  and  exalted  acts  of  folly  and 
madness,  that  we  can  be  no  wiser  than  God 
hath  made  us,  as  if  the  defects  in  our  will 
were  defects  in  his  providence;  when  io 
truth  God  hath  given  us  all  that  we  will 
make  ourselves  capable  of,  that  we  will  re- 
ceive from  him.  He  hath  given  us  life,  that 
is  time,  to  make  ourselves  learned,  to  make 
ourselves  wise,  to  make  us  discern  and  judge 
of  all  the  mysteries  of  the  world:  if  we  will 
bestow  this  time,  which  would  supply  us 
with  wisdom  and  knowledge,  in  wine  and 
women,  which  corrupt  the  little  understand- 
ing that  nature  hath  given  us;  if  we  will 
barter  it  away  for  skill  in  horses,  dogs,  and 


36  LORD    CLARErfDON's    ESSAYS. 

hawks;  and  if  we  will  throw  it  away  in  play 
and  gaming;  it  is  from  our  own  villany  that 
we  are  fools,  and  have  rejected  the  effects 
of  his  providence.  It  is  no  wiser  an  allega- 
tion, that  our  time  is  our  own,  and  we  may 
use  it  as  we  please:  there  is  nothing  so  much 
our  own  that  we  may  use  it  as  we  please; 
we  cannot  use  our  money,  which  is  as  much, 
if  not  more,  our  own  than  any  thing  we 
have,  to  raise  rebellion  against  our  prince, 
or  to  hire  men  to  do  mischief  to  our  neigh- 
bours; vve  cannot  use  our  bodies,  which, 
if  any  thing,  are  our  own,  in  duels  or  any 
unlawful  enterprize:  and  why  should  we 
then  believe  that  we  have  so  absolute  and 
sovereign  a  dispos.il  of  our  time,  that  we 
may  choose  whether  we  will  dispose  it  to 
any  thing  or  no?  It  were  to  be  wished  that 
all  men  did  believe,  which  they  have  all 
great  reason  to  do,  that  the  consumption  and 
spending  of  our  time  will  be  the  great  inqui- 
sition of  the  last  and  terrible  day;  when 
there  shall  be  a  more  strict  enquiry  how 
the  most  dissolute  person,  the  most  debauch- 
ed bankrupt,  spent  his  time,  than  how  he 
spent  his  estate;  no  doubt  it  will  then  mani- 
festly appear,  that  our  precious  time  was  not 
lent  us  to  do  nothing  with,  or  to  be  spent 
upon  that  which  is  worse  than  nothing;  and 


REFLECTIONS    ON    HAPPINESS.  ST' 

we  shall  not  be  more  confounded  with  any 
thing,  than  to  find  that  there  is  a  perfect  re- 
gister kept  of  all  that  we  did  in  that  time; 
and  that  when  we  have  scarce  remembered 
the  morrow  what  we  did  yesterday,  there 
is  a  diary  in  which  nothing  we  did  is  left  out, 
and  as  much  notice  taken  when  we  did 
nothing  at  all.  This  will  be  a  sad  animad- 
version when  it  is  too  late,  and  when  pro- 
bably it  may  appear  that  the  very  idle  man, 
he  who  hath  never  employed  himself,  may 
be  ia  a  very  little  better  condition  than  he 
who  hath  been  worst  employed;  when  idle- 
ness shall  be  declared  to  be  a  species  of 
wickedness,  and  doing  nothing  to  be  the  ac- 
tivity of  a  beast.  There  cannot  therefore 
be  too  serious  or  too  early  a  reflection  upon 
the  good  husbandry  of  this  precious  talent, 
which  we  are  entrusted  with,  not  to  be  laid 
out  in  vain  pleasures  whereof  we  are  asham- 
ed as  soon  as  we  have  enjoyed  them,  but  in 
such  profitable  exchanges  that  there  may 
be  some  record  of  our  industry,  if  there  "be 
none  of  our  getting. 

The  truth  is,  if  incogitance  and  inadver- 
tence, not  thinking  at  all,  not  considering 
any  thing  (which  is  degrading  ourselves  as 
much  as  is  in  our  power  from  being  men, 
by  renouncing  the  faculties  of  a  reasonable 


-S8  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

soul)  were  not  our  mortal  disease,  it  might 
be  believed  that  the  consumption  of  our 
time  proceeds  only  from  the  contempt  we 
have  of  wisdom  and  virtue;  for  in  order  to 
any  thing  else  we  employ  it  well  enough. 
How  can  we  pretend  that  we  desire  to  be 
wise,  when  we  do  no  one  thing  that  is  in 
order  to  it;  or  that  we  love  virtue,  when 
we  do  not  cultivate  any  one  affection  that 
would  advance  it,  nor  subdue  any  one  pas- 
sion that  destroys  it?  VVe  see  the  skill  and 
perfection  in  the  meanest  and  lowest  trade  is 
obtained  by  industry  and  instruction  and  ob- 
servation, and  that  with  all  that  application 
very  much  time  is  necessary  to  it;  and  can 
we  believe  that  wisdom,  which  is  the  great- 
est perfection  and  highest  operation  of  the 
soul,  can  be  got  without  industry  and  labour? 
Can  we  hope  to  find  gold  upon  the  surface 
of  the  earth,  when  we  dig  almost  to  the 
centre  of  it  to  find  lead  and  tin  and  the  coar- 
ser metals?  It  is  very  wonderful,  if  it  be  not 
very  ridiculous,  to  see  a  man  take  great 
pains  to  learn  to  dance,  and  not  to  be  at  lei- 
sure to  learn  to  read;  that  man  should  set  a 
very  high  esteem  upon  the  decent  motion 
and  handsome  figure  of  the  body,  and  under- 
value the  mind  so  much  as  not  to  think  it 
worth  any  pains  or  consideration  to  improve 


REFLECTIONS    ON    HAPPINESS.  39 

the  faculties  thereof,  or  to  contribute  to  its 
endowments;  and  yet  all  men's  experience 
supplies  them  with  evidence  enough,  that 
the  excellent  symmetry  of  the  body,  a  very 
handsome  outside  of  a  man,  doth  too  fre- 
quently expose  men  to  derision  and  noto- 
rious contempt,  when  so  gross  defects  of  the 
mind  are  discovered,  as  make  the  other 
beauty  less  agreeable  by  being  more  remark- 
able: whereas,  on  the  contrary,  the  beauty 
of  the  mind  doth  very  frequently  reconcile 
the  eyes  and  ears  of  all  men  to  the  most 
unpromising  countenances,  and  to  persons 
nothing  beholden  to  nature  for  any  comeli- 
ness; yet  the  wisdom  and  gravity  of  their 
words  in  persuading  and  convincing,  and  the 
sincerity  and  virtue  of  their  actions,  extort 
an  esteem  and  reverence  from  all  kind  of 
men,  that  no  comely  and  graceful  outside 
of  a  man  could  ever  attain  to.  It  is  not  to 
be  wished,  that  men  took  less  care  of  their 
bodies  than  they  do;  they  cannot  be  too  soli- 
citous to  preserve  their  health,  and  to  con- 
firm it,  6y  preventing  those  diseases  which 
the  excess  and  corruption  of  humours  are 
naturally  the  causes  of,  with  timely  physic 
and  seasonable  application  of  remedies,  and, 
above  all,  bystrictand  wholesome  diet;  health 
is  so  inestimable  a  blessing  and  benefit,  that 


40  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

we  cannot  take  too  much  pains,  nor  stud} 
too  much,  to  obtain  and  preserve  jt:  bnt  the 
grief  is,  that  the  whole  care  is  laid  out  for 
the  body,  and  none  at  all  for  the  mind;  that 
we  are  so  jealous  of  every  alteration  in  our 
constitution,  of  every  light  indisposition  of 
our  body,  that  we  too  commonly  apply  cures 
when  there  are  no  diseases,  and  cause  the 
sickness  we  would  prevent:  when,  at  the 
same  time,  there  are  twenty  visible  diseases 
and  distempers  of  our  mind,  which  we  never 
look  after  nor  take  care  of,  though  they 
would  be  more  easily  cured  than  the  other,- 
and  being  cured,  would  yield  that  infinite 
pleasure  and  satisfaction  to  the  body,  that 
sickness  itself  could  not  deprive  it  of.  Dost 
thou  find  laziness  and  excess  of  sleep  afiect 
thy  body?  And  dost  Ihou  find  exercise  and 
moderate  labour  revive  thy  spirits,  and  in- 
crease thy  ^petite  ?  Examine  thy  mind, 
whether  it  hath  not  too  much  emptiness, 
whether  it  can  cos^Uandi  ferre  laborem,  whe- 
ther it  can  bear  the  fatigue  of  thinking,  and 
produce  any  conclusion  from  thence;  and 
then  administer  a  fit  diet  of  books  to  it,  and 
let  it  take  air  and  exercise  in  honest  and 
cheerful  conversation,  with  men  that  can 
descend  and  bo»v  their  natures  and  their 
understandings  to  the  capacity  and  to  the 


REFLECTIOXS    ON    HAPPINESS.  41 

indisposition  and   weakness  of  other  men. 
A  sour  and  morose  companion  is  as  unnatu- 
ral a  prescription  to  such  a  patient,  as  the 
exercise   of  tennis   is  to   a  man   who   hath 
broken    a   vein,    when    any  violent   motion 
may  be  mortal.     If  thy  mind  be  loose,  and 
most  delighted  with   vain  and   unclean   dis- 
courses and  unchaste  desires,  prescribe  it  a 
diet  of  contemplation  upon  the  p<irity  of  the 
nature  of  God,  and  the  injunction  he  hath 
jiven  us  to  live  by,  and  the  frequent  con- 
tuest  men  have  made  thereby  upon  their 
cwn  most  corrupt  and  depraved  affections; 
aid  let  it  have  its  exercise  and  recreation 
with  men  of  that  severity,  that  restrain  all 
ili  discourse  by  the  gravity  of  their  presence, 
anl  yet  of  that  candour  as  may  make  them 
agreeable  to  those  who  must  by  degrees  be 
br«ught  to  love  them,  and  to  find  another 
kinl  of  pleasure,  yet  pleasure  that  hath  a 
greiter  relish  in  their  company,  than  in  those 
thej  have  been  most  accustomed  to.     MeA, 
give  over  the  diseases  of  the  mind  as  incura- 
ble; call  them  infirmities  of  nature,  which 
cannst   be   subdued,    hardly   correrted;    or 
substantial   parts  of  nature,  that  cannot  be 
cut  oT,  or  divided  from  our  humanity;  that 
anger  is  the   result  of  a  generous  nature, 
that  will  not,  ought  not  to  submit  to  injuries 


42  LORD    clarendon's    ES6AYS. 

and  affronts;  tfcat  lust  is  so  inseparable  from 
our  nature,  that  nothing  but  want  of  health 
can  allay  it;  that  there  is  no  other  way  to 
cure  the  disease  but  to  kill  the  patient; 
that  it  proceeds  not  from  any  virtuous  ha- 
bit of  the  mind,  where  these  natural  affec- 
tions and  appetites  do  not  prevail,  but  from 
some  depraved  constitution  of  the  body, 
which  stifles  and  suppresses  those  desires', 
for  want  of  that  moisture  and  .heat  that 
should  nourish  them;  and  that  conscience 
hath  no  more  to  do  in  the  conquest,  thai 
courage  hath  an  operation  in  him  who  takej 
an  enemy  prisoner  who  lies  prostrate  at  his 
feet:  whereas  all  those,  and  other  diseases 
of  the  mind,  for  diseases  they  are,  are  mu<h 
more  curable  than  those  of  the  body,  and  io 
much  the  more  as  they  are  most  subject 
to  our  own  administration;  when  we  mist 
resort  to  the  skill  and  ability  of  other  men 
to  devise  and  compound  proper  remedies 
for  the  other  cure.  Many  accidents  of 
heat  or  cold  or  diet,  or  the  very  reme- 
dies prescribed,  very  often  make  the  diseases 
of  the  body  incurable,  and  the  recover^  im- 
possible; whereas  the  application  to  the  mind, 
though  unskilfully  and  unseasonably  nade, 
does  no  harm  if  it  does  no  good,  anJ  the 
mind  remains  still  as  capable  of  the  same  or 


REFLECTIONS    ON   HAPPINESS.  43 

other  medicines  as  it  was  before.  Nor  is 
there  any  enormous  or  unruly  infirmity  so 
annexed  to  or  rooted  in  our  nature,  but  that 
the  like  hath  been  frequently  severed  from 
or  eradicated  out  of  it,  by  virtuous  and  con- 
scientious precepts  and  practice;  and  every 
man's  observation  and  experience  supplies 
him  with  examples  enough,  of  men  far  from 
sobriety,  who,  to  comply  with  some  infirmi- 
ty, have  forborne  all  wine  and  intemperance 
for  some  months;  and  of  others  of  no  re- 
s(trained  appetites,  who  upon  the  obligation 
of  a  promise  or  virtuous  resolution,  have 
abstained  a  longer  time  from  any  acts  of  un- 
cleanness;  and  whosoever  can  impose  such 
a  law  upon  himself  for  so  many  months,  can 
do  the  same  for  so  many  years;  a  firm  and 
magnanimous  resolution  can>  exercise  that 
discipline  upon  the  mind,  that  it  shall  never 
make  any  excursions  from  reason  and  good 
behaviour.  If  they  can  be  brought  but 
laboran  ferre  cogiiatidi.  the  worst  is  over, 
and  their  recovery  is  not  desperate. 

Since  then  it  is  and  may  be  made  evident 
enough,  that  the  greatest  infirmities  and  de- 
lormities  of  the  mind  may  be  reformed  and 
rectified  by  industry  and  reasonable  applica- 
tions, there  can  be  but  one  reason  why  there 
is  so  little    used   in    those  cases,  since  all 


44  LORD  clarekdon's  essays. 

men  desire  to  be  wise,  or  to  be  reputed 
wise;  and  that  is,  that  there  is  no  need  of 
it:  nature's  store  and  provision  is  sufficient; 
converisation  with  witty  men,  and  an  ordina- 
ry observation  of  the  current  and  conduct  of 
business,  will  make  men  as  wise  as  they  need 
to  be;  and  the  affectation  of  books  doth 
but  introduce  pedantry  into  the  manners  of 
men,  and  make  them  impertinent  and  trou- 
blesome; that  men  of  great  learning  in 
books  are  frequently  found  to  be  the  most 
incompetent  judges  or  advisers  in  the  most 
important  transactions  of  the  affairs  of  the 
world,  and  of  the  interest  of  states.  And 
by  this  unreasonable  jolly  discourse,  and 
contempt  of  the  learned  languages,  there 
seems  to  be  a  combination  entered  into  against 
learning,  and  against  any  such  education 
as  may  dispose  them  to  it;  as  if  the  excel- 
lent endowments  of  nature  would  be  eclips- 
ed by  reading  books,  and  would  hinder 
them  from  learning  more  in  the  company 
they  might  keep  than  they  can  obtain  from 
other,  and  that  the  other  method  makes 
them  men  much  sooner:  and  upon  this 
ground,  which  hath  gotten  too  much  coun- 
tenance in  the  world,  the  universities  and 
inns  of  court,  which  have  been  the  semina- 
ries out  of  which  our  ancestors  have  gro^vn 


REFLECTIONS    ON    HAPFIKESS.  45 

to  be  able  to  serve  their  country  with 
great  reputation  and  success,  are  now  de- 
clined as  places  which  keep  hopeful  youth 
too  long  boys,  and  infect  them  with  formali- 
ties and  impertinent  knowledge,  of  which 
they  shall  have  little  use,  and  send  them 
out  late  and  less  prepared  for  and  inclined  to 
those  generous  qualifications,  which  are  most 
like  to  raise  their  fortunes  and  their  repu- 
tations. Which  sure  is  a  very  great  error, 
and  hath  been  the  source  from  whence  ma- 
ny mischiefs  have  flowed.  And  to  speak 
first  of  this  extolled  breeding  in  good  com- 
pany, and  travel  into  foreign  parts  before 
they  know  any  thing  of  their  own  country; 
and  getting  the  vice  and  the  language  of  that, 
before  they  can  secure  themselves  from  the 
one,  or  understand  their  own  native  tongue; 
we  have  the  knowledge  and  experience  of 
many,  who  have  indeed  the  contidence  and 
presumption  of  men,  but  retain  the  levity 
and  folly  of  children:  and  if  they  are  able 
to  disguise  those  weaknesses,  and  appear  in 
their  behaviour  and  discourse  earlier  men 
than  others  of  their  age  seem  to  be  (as  it 
many  tiroes  falls  out,  especially  in  men  en- 
dowed with  any  principles  of  modesty,)  yet 
those  very  early  men  decay  apace  for  want 
of  nourishment  at  the  roots,  and  we  too  fre- 


46  LORD  clargn'don's  essays. 

quently  see  those  who  seem  men  at  twenty 
years  of  age,  ivhen  the  gaiety  of  their  youth 
decays,  and  themselves  grow  weary  of  those 
exercises  and  vanities  which  then  became 
them,  become  boys  at  thirty;  having  no  sup- 
ply of  parts  for  business,  or  grave  and  so- 
ber conversation,  they  then  grow  out  of  love 
with  themselves,  and  too  soon  lament  those 
defects  and  impotency  in  themselves,  which 
nothing  but  some  degree  of  learning  and 
acquaintance  with  books  could  have  pre- 
vented. And  to  say  that  they  can  fall  to  it 
afterwards,  and  recover  the  time  they  have 
lost  when  they  will,  is  no  more  reasonable 
(though  there  have  been  some  very  rare 
examples  of  such  industry)  than  to  imagine 
that  a  man,  after  he  is  forty  years  of  age, 
may  learn  to  dance  as  well  as  if  he  had  be- 
gun it  sooner  He  who  loves  not  books  be- 
fore he  comes  to  thirty  years  of  age,  will 
hardly  love  them  enough  afterwards  to  un- 
derstand them.  The  conversation  with  wise 
and  good  men  cannot  be  overvalued;  it 
forms  the  mind  and  understanding  for  noble 
and  heroical  undertakings,  and  is  much  to  be 
preferred  before  the  mere  learning  of  books, 
in  order  to  be  wise:  but  where  a  good  foun- 
dation of  the  knowledge  and  understanding 
of  books  is  first  laid,  to  support  the  excellent 


REFLECTIONS    ON    HAPPINESS.  47 

superstructure  of  such  conversation,  the  ad- 
vance must  be  made  much  more  advanta- 
geously, than  when  nothing  but  the  ordina- 
ry endowments  of  nature  are  brought  to  be 
cuhivated  by  conversation;  which  is  com- 
monly chosen  with  men  of  the  same  talents, 
who  gratify  one  another  with  believing  that 
they  want  not  any  extraordinary  improve- 
ment, and  so  join  together  in  censuring  and 
condemning  what  they  do  not  understand, 
and  think  that  men  have  only  better  fortune 
than  they  who  have  got  credit,  without  being 
in  any  degree  wiser  than  themselves. 

It  is  very  true,  there  have  been  very  ex- 
traordinary men  in  all  nations,  who,  by  their 
great  experience,  and  a  notable  vivacity  of 
spirit,  have  not  only  attained  to  eminent  pro- 
motion, but  have  been  exceedingly  worthy 
of  it;  albeit  they  have  been  upon  the  matter 
illiterate,  as  to  the  learning  of  books  and  the 
learned  languages;  but  then  they  have  been 
eminently  industrious;  who,  having  had  the 
good  fortune  to  be  educated  in  constant  la- 
bour, under  wise  and  experienced  men, 
have,  by  indefatigable  pains  and  observation, 
gotten  the  learning  of  business  without  the 
learning  of  books,  and  cannot  properly  be 
accounted  illiterate,  though  they  know  little 
Latin  or  Greek.     We  speak  of  books  and 


48  LORj>  clarendon's  essays. 

learning,  not  of  the  language  in  which 
they  are  writ.  The  French  and  the  Ita- 
lian and  the  Spanish  have  many  excellent 
books  of  all  kinds;  and  they  who  are  well 
versed  in  those  languages,  may  be  very 
learned,  though  they  know  no  others:  and 
the  truth  is,  the  French,  whether  by  the 
fertility  of  their  language,  or  the  happy  in- 
dustry of  many  excellent  persons,  have 
translated  most  good  authors  both  of  the 
Greek  and  Latin,  with  that  admirable  faci- 
lity, that  little  of  the  spirit  and  vigour  even 
of  the  style  of  the  best  writers  is  dimin- 
ished; an  advantage  the  Enghsh  industry 
and  curiosity  hath  not  yet  brought  honte  to 
that  nation:  they  who  have  performed  that 
oflice  hitherto,  for  the  most  part,  having 
ilone  it  for  profit,  and  to  live,  without  any 
delight  in  the  pains  they  take;  and  though 
they  may  have  had  some  competent  know- 
ledge of  the  language  out  of  which  they  have 
translated,  have  been  very  far  from  under- 
standing their  own  mother-tongue,  and  being 
versed  in  the  fruitful  productions  of  the  En- 
glish language.  But  though  learning  may 
be  thus  attained  by  many  nations  in  their 
own  proper  dialect,  and  the  huguage  of  their 
own  country,  yet  few  men  »vho  take  the 
>pains  to  search  for  it  in  their  own,  but  have 


REFLECTIONS    ON    HAPPINESS.  49 

the  curiosity  to  look  into  the  original,  and  are 
conversant  in  those  which  are  still,  and  still 
will  be,  called  the  learned  languages;  nor 
is  yet  any  man  eminent  for  knowledge  and 
learning,  that  was  not  conversant  in  other 
tongues  besides  his  own;  and  it  may  be,  those 
two  necessary  sciences,  that  is,  the  princi- 
ples of  them,  grammar  and  logic,  can  very 
hardly  be  so  well  and  conveniently  taught 
and  understood  as  by  Latin.  It  shall  serve 
my  turn,  and  1  shall  willingly  comply  with 
and  gratify  our  beloved  modern  education, 
if  they  take  the  pains  to  read  good  books  in 
that  language  they  understand  best  and  like 
most;  I  had  almost  said,  if  they  will  read 
any  books,  be  so  much  alone  as  reading  em- 
ploys; if  ihey  will  take  as  much  pains  to 
be  wise  and  polish  their  minds,  as  they  do 
to  order  and  dispose  their  clothes  and  their 
hiiir;  if  they  will  put  that  constraint  upon 
themselves  in  order  to  be  learned,  as  they 
do  to  attain  to  a  perfection  in  any  bodily 
exercise;  and,  lastly,  which  is  worth  all  the 
rest,  if  they  will  as  heartily  endeavour  to 
please  God,  as  they  do  those  for  whom  they 
have  no  great  affection,  every  great  man 
whose  favour  they  solicit,  and  affect  being 
good  Christians,  as  much  as  they  do  to  be 
fine  gentlemen,   they  shall  tind  their  labour 

TOL.  V.  21 


50  LORD  CLARENDON  S  ESSAYS. 

as  much  less,  as  their  reward  and  recom- 
pense will  be  greater.  If  they  will  not  do 
this,  they  must  not  take  it  ill  if  it  be  believ- 
ed, that  they  are  without  knowledge  that 
their  souls  are  to  outlive  their  bodies;  and 
that  they  do  not  so  much  wish  to  go  to  Hea- 
ven, as  to  get  the  next  bet  at  play,  or  to 
win  the  next  horse-race  they  are  to  run. 

To  conclude:  If  books  and  industry  will 
not  contribute  to  their  being  wise,  and  to 
their  salvation,  they  will  receive  from  it 
(which  they  value  more)  pleasure  and  re- 
freshment in  this  world;  they  will  have  less 
melancholy  in  the  distress  of  their  fortune, 
less  anxiety  in  the  mortification  of  sickness; 
they  will  not  so  much  complain  for  want  of 
company,  when  all  their  companions  forsake 
them;  their  age  will  be  less  grievous  unto 
them;  and  God  may  so  bless  it,  without  any 
intention  of  their  own,  that  such  thoughts 
may  insensibly  insinuate  themselves  into  them, 
that  they  may  go  out  of  the  world  with  less 
dismal  apprehensions,  and  conclude  their 
neglected  lives  with  more  tranquillity  of  spi- 
rit, at  least  not  be  so  much  terrified  with 
the  approach  of  death,  as  men  who  have 
never  entertained  any  sober  thoughts  of  life 
have  used  to  be,  and  naturally  must  be. 


OF  IMPUDENT  DELIGHT  IS  WICKEDNESS.    61 


ir.    OF  IMPUDENT  DELIGHT  IN  WICKEDNESS. 

If  it  be  too  great  a  mastery  to  pretend  to, 
over  our  own  passions  and  affections,  to  re- 
strain them  from  carrying  us  into  any  unlaw- 
ful desire,  and  from  suffering  that  desire  to 
hurry  us  into  some  unlawful  action,  which 
is  less  perfection  than  every  good  Christian 
is  obliged  to  endeavour  to  arrive  at;  if  some 
sin  knock  so  loud  and  so  impetuously  at  our 
breast,  or  our  blood,  that  it  even  forces  its 
entrance,  in  spite  of  any  resistance  we  can 
make  for  the  present,  let  it  at  least  find  such 
a  reception  as  we  would  give  to  an  enemy, 
who  doth  in  truth  enter  into  our  habitation 
by  force,  though  he  doth  subdue  us;  let  it 
not  have  the  entertainment  of  a  friend,  of  a 
companion,  for  whose  presence  we  were 
solicitous:  if  we  want  power  and  strength 
to  reject  it,  let  us  dismiss  it  with  such  a 
rudeness,  that  it  may  not  promise  it  a  better 
welcome  and  reception.  It  was  some  de- 
gree of  modesty  in  Job's  adulterer,  (xxiv. 
26.)  when  his  "eye  waited  for  the  twilight, 
saving,  No  eye  shall  see  me;  and  disguised 
his  face,''  that  he  was  so  far  ashamed  of  the 
sin  he  acted,  that  he  desired  to  conceal  the 
suspicion  of  it  from  other  men;  though  he 


62  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

had  the  guilt  within  himself,  he  abhorred  the 
being  made  an  example  to  corrupt  others. 
Whilst  there  is  any  shame  remaining  upon 
the  spirit  of  a  transgressor,  any  blush  dis- 
covers itself  after  the  guilt,  there  is  hope  of 
the  subduing  and  conquering  that  temptation; 
and  that  at  last  it  may  grow  to  such  a  detes- 
tation of  the  transgression  itself,  and  of  him- 
self for  transgressing,  that  it  may  even 
recover  his  lost  innocence,  that  is,  repair 
the  state  and  integrity  of  it.  The  most 
severe  philosopher,  who  thought  human 
nature  strong  enough  to  suppress  and  extin- 
guish all  temptation,  had  yet  great  compas- 
sion for  him,  "qui  adhuc  peccare  erubescit;" 
he  thought  it  worth  the  care  of  philosophy 
itself,  "ut  nutriendus  esset  hie  pudor,"  that 
this  disinclination  and  bashfulness  towards 
vice  should  be  so  cherished  and  nourished, 
that  it  should  not  discover  itself  to  be  dis- 
cerned under  any  other  notion  than  of  pure 
virtue,  till  it  recovered  strength  enough  to 
be  so;  and  without  doubt,  whilst  this  bash- 
fulness  possesses  any  place  in  us,  till  the 
custom  and  malice  of  sin  hath  totally  sub- 
dued the  shame  for  sinning,  there  is  a  war 
kept  up  that  may  drive  sin  from  every  cor- 
ner and  angle  of  our  hearts:  and  it  may  be, 
there  have  not  been  more  men  recovered 


OF  IMPUDENT  DELIGHT  IN  WICKEDNESS.    63 

and  reformed  by  the  counsels  and  animad- 
versions of  others,  than  by  their  own  severe 
recollections,  and  reflections  upon  their 
own  transgressions,  and  their  own  observa- 
tions of  the  nature  and  insinuation  of  sin, 
and  of  the  unquietness  and  uneasiness  of  it, 
even  when  it  is  complied  with,  and  of  the 
restlessness  and  importunity  of  it  after  it  is 
satisfied;  "Ipsae  voluptates  eorum  tepidae  et 
variis  terroribus  inquietae  sunt,  subitque, 
cum  maxime  exsultant,  solicita  expectatio; 
Haec  quam  diu  ?"  They  who  hearken  to 
the  voice  of  their  own  consciences,  and  take 
notice  of  the  reluctance  of  their  own  spirit 
in  the  very  moment  they  enjoy  the  pleasures 
they  most  delight  in,  need  no  other  remem- 
brancers, and  easily  disentangle  themselves 
from  all  its  allurements.  But,  alas!  we  live 
in  an  age  wherein  vice  is  not  taught  so  per- 
functorily, as  to  be  in  danger  to  be  dislodged 
after  it  is  once  entered  and  received;  the 
devil  is  too  good  a  husband,  to  venture  a 
beloved  sin  upon  a  constitution  capable  of 
being  ashamed  of  his  guests;  he  secures  him- 
self in  that  point,  by  choosing  such  prose- 
lytes as  will  first  brag  of  having  committed 
some  notorious  sins,  before  he  admits  them 
to  the  pleasure  and  guilt  of  them,  that  so  the 
shame  of  being  discovered  to  be  liars  may 


54  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

harden  their  faces  against  all  other  shame; 
the  fame  of  being  eminently  wicked  hath 
mastered  and  suppressed  the  infamy  of  it; 
and  many  would  rather  be  without  the  plea- 
sure of  the  sins  they  most  delight  in,  than 
without  the  pleasure  of  publishing  and  brag- 
ging of  them  after  the  commitment;  as  if 
there  would  be  too  much  innocence  left,  if 
there  should  not  be  an  equal  proportion  of 
impudence  planted  in  its  place.  This  is  it 
which  makes  us  excel  in  all  lewdness,  and 
our  youth  ;ioctors  in  those  faculties  of  wick- 
edness, which  were  understood  in  former 
times  by  some  few  discarded  ruffians,  who 
were  banished  the  conversation  of  mankind, 
and  of  the  sun  itself.  We  travel  into  foreign 
countries,  not  to  improve  our  own  manners, 
but  to  learn  the  worst  of  theirs,  and  to  trans- 
plant them  carefully  into  our  own  climate; 
where  we  cultivate  and  polish  them,  that 
we  may  excel  all  nations  in  their  own  pecu- 
liar vices:  and  we  have  so  much  modesty, 
as  to  suspect  that  our  own  fancy  and  inven- 
tion is  not  fertile  enough  to  contribute  im- 
provement enough  to  them ;  and  so  bring 
them  into  conference  and  conversation  with 
more  experienced  gamesters,  that  we  may 
be  sure  to  make  the  most  of  them,  and  imp 
them  out  with  texts  of  Scripture  with  all 


OV  IMPUDENT  DELIGHT  IN  WICKEDNESS.    66 

profaneoess  and  blasphemy,  that  there  may 
appear  no  want  of  deliberation  and  industry 
in  the  progress  we  have  made  towards  hell 
and  damnation. 

It  were  very  well  for  Christianity  if  there 
were  half  that  reverence  reserved  for  reli- 
gion, that  the  philosopher  was  assured  would 
be  always  paid  to  that  science  which  indeed 
he  looked  upon  as  religion,  and  defined  it  to 
be  wonderful  like  it;  "Nunqnam  in  tantum 
convalescet,  nunquam  sic  contra  virtutes 
conjurabitur,  ut  non  philosophiae  nomen  ven- 
erabile  et  sacrum  maneat:"  and  indeed,  this 
modesty  and  respect  to,  or  for,  our  religion, 
was  never  so  near  rooted  out  of  the  hearts 
of  men  since  the  name  of  religion  was  first 
heard  of  in  the  world,  as  it  is  in  the  present 
age  and  present  practice  in  most  nations 
which  call  themselves  Christians;  when  po- 
etry itself  doth  not  administer  so  frequent 
occasions  of  mirth  as  religion  doth;  nor  are 
the  sayings  of  the  poets  so  often  applied  to 
the  most  scurrilous  and  profane  exercises  of 
wit,  as  the  Scripture  itself  is;  nor  indeed  is 
any  wit  so  grateful  and  acceptable  as  that 
which  is  so  polluted:  so  that  it  is  no  breach 
of  charity,  to  believe  that  too  many  read  the 
Scripture,  and  very  industriously,  only  that 
they  may  be  readier  to  apply  not  only  the 


56  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

phrase  and  expressions,  but  the  highest 
mysteries  contained  in  the  whole  body  of 
the  Scripture,  to  the  most  wicked,  profane, 
and  scurrilous  and  blasphemous  subjects. 
Nor  will  they  take  it  ill  to  have  this  believ- 
ed of  them,  the  number  and  quality  of  the 
offenders  carrying  before  it  an  impunity  for 
the  offence;  so  that  there  may  shortly  be 
too  much  reason  to  fear  that  it  may  be  dan- 
gerous to  let  the  kingdom  know  '  quanto 
plures  mali  sint;"  since,  as  the  same  philo- 
pher  observed,  "pudorem  rei  toUit  multi- 
tudo  peccantium,  et  desinit  esse  probri 
loco,  commune  raaledictum."  It  is  high 
time  for  the  sovereign  power  to  be  very 
vigilant  and  severe,  when  such  conspira- 
cies and  combinations  grow  so  strong;  nor 
can  there  be  a  greater  manifestation  of  the 
contempt  of  the  government,  than  when 
great  and  notorious  vices  obtain  credit  and 
reputation. 


v.    OF  tRUNKENNESS. 

That  drunkenness  is  a  sin  of  very  great  an- 
tiquity, needs  no  other  evidence,  than  that, 
for  aught  appears,  it  was  the  first  sin  that 
was  committed  after  the  flood;  and  it  may 


OF  DRUNKENNESS.  It? 

be,  the  first  punisbroent  that  was  inflicted 
upon  it  was  the  best  proportioned  to  the 
crime;  and  if  it  had  been  ever  prosecuted 
upon  the  continuance  and  propagation  of  it 
since,  it  is  probable  that  vice  had  not  l^our- 
ished  in  so  many  ages  to  this  time,  when  it 
remains  more  strong  and  vigorous,  and  in 
more  credit  and  reputation,  than  it  had  in 
its  beginning;  because  it  hath  not  the  same 
penalty  inflicted  upon  it  since,  which  was,  a 
mockery  and  contempt.  Not  that  mockery 
which  is  now  so  much  applied  to  it,  and  by 
which  it  is  cherished  and  propagated  by 
mirth  and  laughter,  and  looking  upon  it  as 
a  commendable,  at  least  a  pardonable,  efiect 
of  good-fellowship:  it  was  another  kind  of 
mocking  which  God  prescribed,  by  per- 
mitting, when  he  made  the  first  drunken  man 
(who  had  been  so  much  in  his  favour)  to 
become  by  it  ridiculous  to  hi*  own  son,  and 
permitted  his  own  child  unnaturally  to  con- 
temn his  father;  as  if  it  were  but  justice, 
that  his  own  flesh  and  blood  should  with- 
draw the  duty  due  to  a  parent,  who  had 
divested  himself  of  his  manhood  to  become  a 
beast.  It  was  the  third  part  of  the  world 
that  then  manifested  this  contempt  towards 
that  excessive  debauchery,  and  the  other 
two  parts  did  but  conceal  it:  and  though  the 


£8  LORD    clarendon's   ESSAtS. 

presumption  in  so  near  a  relation  as  a  son 
was  not  excusable,  his  piety  cannot  justify 
such  a  contempt;  yet  the  contempt  itself, 
as  it  was  the  first,  so  it  is  the  best  and  most 
sovereign  remedy  that  the  wisdom  of  a  state 
can  prescribe  for  the  suppressing  and  eradi- 
cating that  enormity,  that  a  dissolute  and  a 
drunken  man  be  looked  upon  with  scorn, 
and  as  unworthy  to  be  received  into  the 
company  or  employment  of  honest  and  vir- 
tuous persons;  that  he  who  delights  to  de- 
grade himself  from  being  a  reasonable  crea- 
ture, be  degraded  from  the  capacity  of 
exercising  any  office,  for  the  support  where- 
of the  use  of  reason  is  constantly  necessary; 
and  that  he  be  exposed  to  a  universal  con- 
tempt, who  exposes  himself  to  discredit  hig 
creation,  and  to  drive  that  reasonable  soul 
from  him  that  only  distinguishes  him  from  a 
beast.  And  till  this  peculiar  penalty  be,  by^ 
a  general  consent  of  all  worthy  men  as  well 
as  magistrates,  applied  to  this  race  of  impu- 
dent transgressors,  this  affected  wickedness 
will  never  be  extirpated,  but  involve  whole 
nations  in  the  infamy,  though  particular  men 
may  be  free  from  the  guilt  of  the  excess. 

The  succeeding  stages  of  the  world  never 
found  so  proper  a  remedy  for  this  malady. 


OF    DRUNKENNESS.  69 

though  something  was  always  done  to  make 
it  odious  and  terrible  to  those  who  affected 
it.  By  the  Levitical  law,  if  the  father  and 
the  mother  did  bring  their  son  before  the 
elders  of  the  city,  and  say.  This  our  son  is 
a  glutton  and  a  drunkard,  all  the  men  of  the 
city  shall  stone  him  with  stones  that  he  die; 
yet  this  severity  did  not  root  out  that  vice 
from  that  people,  excess  of  wine  still  wrought 
the  same  effects:  and  it  is  probable  the  seve- 
rity of  the  law  made  men  less  solicitous  for 
the  execution  of  it;  parents  chose  rather  to 
keep  a  drunken  son,  than  to  have  no  son  at 
all,  to  have  him  put  to  death;  and  an  excess 
of  rigour  in  the  punishment  rather  makes 
faults  to  be  carefully  concealed,  than  not  to 
be  committed.  And  this  may  be  the  reasoa 
that  in  the  time  of  Solomon,  who,  amongst 
his  multitude  of  vices,  we  do  not  find  was 
given  to  drunkenness,  a  less  severe  judgment 
was  denounced  against  it,  yet  more  like  to  re- 
form it:  "  The  drunkard  and  the  glutton 
shall  come  to  poverty,"  says  he,  (Prov. 
xxiii.  21.)  Let  but  that  be  made  good,  and 
the  cure  is  wrought;  no  man  ever  affected  a 
vice  that  he  believed  would  inevitably  make 
him  a  beggar;  the  gamester,  who  most  natu- 
rally falls  into  it,  is  very  solicitous  to  avoid 
it,  and  plays  that  he  may  be  rich;  and  the 


60  LORD  clarendon's  ESSAYS. 

lustful  person,  though  he  may  fear  diseases, 
sees  no  cause  to  apprehend  poverty,  by 
giving  satisfaction  to  his  appetite.  No  vicious 
man  considers  Heaven  so  much,  as  to  foresee 
the  punishment  that  may  fall  from  thence 
upon  his  excesses;  and  therefore  let  Solo- 
mon pronounce  what  he  will,  the  drunkard 
will  never  be  terrified  with  the  fear  of  beg- 
gary, whilst  he  sees  rich  and  great  men 
affected  with  the  same  pleasure  with  which 
he  is  delighted  and  reproached,  and  to  whom, 
it  may  b'e,  he  stands  more  commended  by  his 
faculty  in  drinking,  than  he  would  be  by  the 
practice  of  any  particular  virtue.  Nor  can 
the  public  laws  and  penalties  of  any  state 
execute  Solomon's  sentence,  and  reduce 
those  riotous  transgressors  to  poverty,  whilst 
the  magistrates  and  great  ministers,  without 
whose  influence  those  dead  laws  have  no 
vigour,  are  accustomed  to  the  same  exces- 
ses, or  indulgent  to  those  who  are:  they  are 
so  far  from  believing  that  they  shall  be  the 
poorer  by  it,  that  they  look  upon  it  as  the 
only  antidote  that  can  expel  the  poison  of 
poverty,  and  the  only  remedy  that  can  re- 
deem and  buoy  them  up  from  the  abyss,  into 
which  the  melancholy  of  want  usually  c  tsts 
those  who  are  in  distress:  they  think  tliey 
have  a  piece  of  Scripture  more   canonical 


OF    DRUNKEKNESS.  Gl 

than  Solomon's  practice,  of  the  verity  where- 
of they  have  such  real  experience  in  the 
panegyric  they  find  in  Esdras,  which,  instead 
of  being  cast  into  poverty,  raised  the  poor- 
est amongst  them  to  the  state  and  condition 
of  kings:  "  Wine  maketh  the  mind  of  the 
king  and  of  the  fatherless  child  to  be  all  one, 
of  the  bondman  and  of  the  free-man,  of  the 
poor  man  and  of  the  rich.  It  turneth  also 
every  thought  into  jollity  and  mirth,  so  that 
a  man  remembereth  neither  sorrow  nor 
debt;  and  it  maketh  every  heart  rich,  so  that 
a  man  remembereth  neither  king  nor  gover- 
nor; and  it  maketh  to  speak  all  things  by 
talents;"  (1  Esdr.  iii.  19,  20,21.)  •  And  if 
in  truth  this  prerogative  be  confirmed  by 
the  condescension  of  great  men  to  this  equa- 
lity, in  prostituting  themselves  to  the  same 
base  excess;  if  this  rebellious  transporta- 
tion of  jollity,  and  this  pleasant  dream  of 
wealth  and  security,  be  not  awaked  by  some 
severe  and  sensible  chastisement,  the 'Apoc- 
rypha will  be  preferred  as  the  tnier  Scrip, 
ture,  and  men  will  not,  by  the  gravity  (which 
they  call  the  morality)  of  a  few  sober  men, 
b^  irreconciled  with  the  vice  that  brings 
them  into  so  good  company,  and  in  which 
they  enjoy  so  many  pleasant  hours. 


"62  LORD  clarendon's  essay*. 

We  may  reasonably  believe,  that  in  our 
Saviour's  time  this  unmanly  excess  was 
grovvn  to  a  very  great  height,  by  the  most 
terrible  judgment  denounced  against  it  by 
St.  Paul  (J  Cor.  vi.  10.)  "That  no  drunk- 
ard shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God."  A 
man  must  be  in  a  perpetual  drunkenness, 
•that  doth  not  discern  the  treachery  of  that 
wine  which  raises  that  mirth  and  jollity, 
which  makes  him  forget  the  King  of  kings, 
and  this  inevitable  sentence  that  he  must 
undergo  for  that  minute  of  contemptible 
mirth  to  which  he  sacrifices  his  miserable 
soul.  What  remedy  can  God  himself  pre- 
scribe against  our  destruction,  if  so  plain  and 
clear  and  unquestionable  determination  can- 
not fright  us  from  this  unworthy  and  devour- 
ing excess?  And  those  men  must  be  very 
ambitious  to  be  damned,  who  make  appoint- 
inent!^,  and  meet  to  be  drunk,  that  they  may 
not  be  disappointed  of  the  other.  Nor  can 
this  desperate  appetite  consist  but  in  a  mind 
wholly  possessed  with  contempt  of  Heaven, 
and  all  hope  of  salvation:  and  yet  St.  Paul 
seems  to  resort  to  the  old  primitive  punish- 
ment, as  the  most  like  to  prevent  this  last 
unavoidable  one,  to  try  if  conteujpt  and  dis- 
dain can  draw  men  from  that  which  hell-tire 
cannot  terrify  them  from:  "  And  now  1  have 


OF    DRUNKENNESS.  63 

written  unto  you  not  to  keep  company  if  any 
man  that  is  called  a  brother  be  a  drunkard; 
with  such  an  one,  no,  not  to  eat."  To  be  a 
Christian  and  a  drunkard  was  such  a  contra- 
diction,  to  put  off  the  man  and  retain  the 
Christian  was  such  a  mockery,  that  he  who 
affected  it  was  not  thought  fit  for  any  part  of 
human  society.  It  is  not  from  original  sin, 
or  the  corrupt  nature  of  mankind,  but  from 
the  corruption  of  their  manners,  from  wick- 
ed and  licentious  education,  that  men  are 
more  afraid  of  any  temporal  disgrace,  any 
present  disadvantage,  than  jaf  eternal  punish- 
ment: they  cannot  be  induced  to  believe 
that  their  lives  are  near  an  end,  whilst  they 
enjoy  health  and  vigour  of  mind;  and  damna- 
tion is  a  thing  so  far  off,  and,  as  they  believe, 
easy  to  be  compounded  for  in  the  last  mo- 
ment of  life,  besides  the  putting  it  off  by  not 
thinking  of  it,  that  few  men  displease  them- 
selves by  any  apprehension  of  it;  and  there- 
fore it  must  be  some  present  uneasiness, 
•some  incapacity  upon  earth  as  well  as  in 
heaven,  that  must  magisterially  reform  me  ft 
from  this  noisome  malady.  If,  as  persons 
overgrown  with  the  infection  of  leprosy,  they 
be  excluded  from  the  courts  of  princes  and 
the  chambers  of  great  men;  if  they  were 
made  incapable  of  any  dignity  or  office,  or 


64  LORD  clarendon''s  essays. 

of  being  admitted  into  the  company  of  gen- 
tlemen, by  a  declared  reproach  upon  all  who 
shall  presume  to  keep  them  company;  if  the 
observation  and  experience  that  men  of  ex- 
cellent parts  do,  in  few  years,  become  fools 
by  excessive  drinking,  could  prevail  with 
others  to  believe  that  they  shall,  from  the 
same  surfeits,  be  rendered  inferior  in  their 
understanding  to  all  who  are  more  temperate 
than  they,  and  thereby  grow  unfit  as  well  as 
unworthy  for  those  employments  they  pre-, 
tend  to;  these  casligations  and  these  reflec- 
tions might  possibly  make  such  impression 
upon  the  minds  of  those  who  are  possessed 
with  this  frenzy,  together  with  a  combina- 
tion of  all  noble  and  generous  persons  against 
them,  that  this  unchristian  brutality,  which 
dishonours  all  nations  where  it  is  permitted, 
would  be  rooted  out,  or  confined  to  that  abject 
sort  of  men,  which  being  abandoned  by  their 
own  lusts  and  excesses,  are  not  looked  upon 
as  a  noble  part  of  any  Christi.m  nation,  but 
ranked  amongst  the  dregs  of  the  people. 
And  truly  if  such  a  collection  were  made 
and  published,  as  very  many  men's  own  ex- 
perience and  observation  can  produce  of  the 
public  mischief  and  ruin  that  hath  btfillen 
states,  in  the  discovery  of  counsels,  and  the 
lessening  and    alienating  the    affection  and 


OF    DRUNKENNESS.  65 

reverence  that  is  due  to  the  government, 
by  this  single  vice  of  drunkenness;  that  hath 
befallen  armies  in  having  their  quarters  beat- 
en up,  their  towns  surprised,  their  forts  be- 
trayed, and  the  whole  discipline  which  should 
preserve  them  dissolved  by  the  pernicious 
excess  of  drink  in  the  generals  and  principal 
officers;  that  hath  befallen  private  firailies, 
in  the  quarrels,  breach  of  friendship,  and 
murders,  which  have  had  no  other  origi- 
nal or  foundation,  but  drunkenness;  men 
could  not  but  conclude,  that  it  is  a  sin  that 
God  is  wonderfully  offended  with,  and  a 
scourge  that  he  chastises  all  those  with  who 
are  delighted  in  it,  and  would  abhor  both  it 
and  them  proportionably;  and  that  they  can 
have  no  peace  with  God  or  man,  who  do  not 
labour  with  all  their  faculties  to  drive  it  out 
and  keep  it  out  of  their  families,  their  towns, 
and  countries,  with  the  same  vigilance  and 
severity  as  they  use  against  the  most  devour- 
ing plague  and  pestilence  that  sweeps  all 
before  it. 

It  is  too  great  an  indulgence  to  this  wicked- 
ness, it  may  be  in  some  who  are  not  guilty  of 
it,  and  an  evidence  that  they  do  not  abhor  it 
enough,  to  say  that  the  natural  temper  and 
constitution  of  men  is  so  different  thnt  wine 
works  different  effects  in  them;  and  that  it 

VOL.  V.  22 


66  LORD  clarendon's  ESSAVS. 

hath  such  an  insinuation  into  manj,  that  it 
can  as  hardly  be  shut  out  as  flattery  can, 
and  infuses  its  poison  so  subtilly  that  it  bath 
Avrought  its  effects  before  it  be  discerned  or 
suspected,  and  therefore  could  very  hardly 
be  prevented;  that  the  same  excess  which  is 
visible  in  some  men  to  the  loss  of  their  rea- 
son and  other  faculties,  is  not  discernible  in 
others,  nor  makes  the  least  impression  upon 
them;  that  it  never  produces  any  mischievous 
effect  in  many,  and  so  cannot  be,  at  least  in 
the  same  degree,  sinful  in  all  men;  and, 
lastly,  that  it  is  a  part  of  conversation  from 
livhich  men  cannot  retire  rudely;  and  they 
who  are  once  entered  into  it,  especially  if  it 
be  with  persons  superior  to  them^^elves,  and 
upon  whom  they  have  some  dependence, 
can  very  hardly  refuse  to  submit  to  the  laws 
they  prescribe  for  the  present,  or  withdraw 
from  that  excess  which  they  do  not  like,  nor 
must  presume  to  censure  or  contradict.  It 
is  great  pity  that  our  Saviour  nor  his  disci- 
ples had  not  the  foresight  to  discern  these 
distinctions  and  casual  obligations,  that  they 
might  not  so  positively  have  shut  out  all 
transgressors,  who  may  have  so  reasonable 
excuses  for  the  excesses  they  commit,  from 
any  hope  of  salvation;  but  it  is  much  more 
pity,  that  any  men,  who  pretend  to  pay  sub- 


OF  DRPNKENKESS.  67 

mission  and  obedience  to  his  injunctions,  and 
to  believe  and  give  credit  to  his  dictates, 
should  delude  ti)emselves  and  others  with 
such  vain  and  impious  imaginations,  and 
hope  to  avoid  a  judgment  that  is  so  unavoida- 
bly pronounced,  by  such  weak  excuses  as 
cannot  absolve  men  from  the  most  trivial 
and  lightest  trespasses.  Cannot  he  that 
wisely  declines  walking  upon  the  ice  for 
fear  of  falling,  though  possibly  it  might 
carry  him  sooner  to  his  journey's  end,  as 
wisely  forbear  drinking  more  wine  than  is 
necessary,  for  fear  of  being  drunk  and  the 
ill  consequences  thereof  ?  Is  there  any 
man  so  intemperate  as  to  drink  to  an  ex- 
cess, when  his  physician  assures  him  it 
will  increase  his  fever,  though  he  hath  a 
better  excuse  then  from  his  thirst,  or  im- 
prove some  other  disease,  the  strength 
whereof  already  threatens  him  with  death? 
Can  we  be  temperate  that  we  nfay  live  a 
month  the  longer,  which  at  best  ive  cannot 
be  sure  of;  and  will  not  the  fear  of  eternal 
death  make  any  impression  upon  us?  There 
is  not  in  the  whole  catalogue  of  vices  to 
which  mankind  is  liable,  any  one  (swearing 
onU  excepted)  that  hath  not  more  benefit  as 
well  as  pleasure  for  its  excuse  and  reward: 
the  revengeful  and  malicious  person  finds 


68  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

some  ease  and  advantage  from  having  brought 
some  signal  misfortune  upon  his  enemy; 
others  will  be  more  wary  how  they  dis- 
please and  provoke  him:  the  covetous  man 
is  a  great  gainer  by  his  pursuit,  and  is  able, 
if  he  were  willing,  to  do  much  good  with 
what  he  hath  gotten  ill:  the  lustful  person 
finds  ease,  by  having  quenched  or  rather 
allayed  a  fire  that  burned  him,  and  which  a 
sudden  reflection  or  sharp  animadversion 
could  not  extinguish.  The  drunkard  only 
hath  none  of  these  pretences  for  his  excess, 
none  of  these  deceitful  pleasures  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  it  ;  no  man  was  ever  drunk  to 
quench  his  thirst,  or  found  other  delight  in 
it  than  in  becoming  less  a  man  than  God  hath 
made  him;  which  must  be  a  horrible  defor- 
mity, and  disguise  him  from  the  knowledge 
of  God.  They  who  can  perform  the  office 
of  strong  beasts,  in  carrying  more  drink  than 
others  can,  should  be  put  to  carry  it  the 
same  way  they  do,  which  would  be  much 
more  innocent;  and  their  strength  doth  but 
deceive  them,  and  decays  to  all  noble  pur- 
poses, when  it  seems  exalted  in  that  base 
and  servile  work.  Besides,  it  may  be  the  guilt 
of  his  weak  companion,  who  falls  sooner  un- 
der his  hand,  is  inferior,  how  penal  soever, 
to  his  who  triumphs  in  his  brutish  unwound- 


OF  DRUNKENNESS.  69 

ed  conquest,  and  believes  he  is  less  drunk, 
because  he  is  not  so  much  dead.  They 
who  apply  their  power  and  quality  to  the 
propagation  of  this  unmanly  and  unruly 
license,  and  draw  men  from  obeying  or  con- 
sidering Heaven,  to  please  them,  are  fit  to 
be  degraded  from  that  qualiticatiou  they  so 
dishonourably  prostitute,  and  to  be  con- 
demned to  that  conversation  Ihey  so  much 
afifect;  and  they,  who  out  of  modesty  and 
good  manners,  out  of  gratitude  and  obedi- 
ence, are  disposed  to  submit  to  those  com- 
mands, ought  well  to  consider,  that  they  do 
at  the  same  time  renounce  their  Christian 
liberty,  and  enter  into  a  servitude  which 
hath  no  bounds  or  limits:  for  with  what  se- 
curity or  reason  can  he  refu«e  to  perform 
the  lowest  and  the  basest  office  that  man 
shall  require  him,  upon  whose  command  he 
hath  been  content  to  be  drunk?  That  he  is 
not  a  pander,  that  he-  is  not  an  assassinator, 
that  he  is  not  a  rebel,  is  not  to  be  imputed 
to  any  restraint  in  or  from  his  own  con- 
science, but  to  the  temper  and  constitution 
of  his  patron,  which  doth  not  invite  him  to 
those  debaucheries;  for  to  say  that  honour 
and  the  law  make  those  much  more  penal 
than  the  other,  so  that  his  commands  can 
more  easily  be  disputed  and  contradicted  in 


70  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

those  cases,  is  no  excuse;  for  where  the 
conscience  lies  waste,  and  Jill  regard  to 
God's  law  is  rejected,  obedience  to  the  law 
of  man  is  no  otherwise  retained  than  in  order 
to  prevent  discovery;  and  where  the  penalty 
may  be  declined  or  eluded,  the  impiety 
makes  no  impression:  so  that  he  who  hath 
barefaced,  and  upon  deliberation,  violated 
any  one  of  God's  express  commandments, 
hath  given  earnest  to  the  devil  that  he  will 
break  any  of  the  rest,  when  the  like  oppor- 
tunity and  convenience  shall  be  offered. 

It  is  yet  much  more  wonderful  that  there 
should  be  any  Christian  government,  in 
which  there  are  no  laws  established  to  pun- 
ish this  damnable  sin;  and  that  there  should 
be  such  a  compassion  for  it  that  the  same 
crime,  even  homicide  itself,  that  is  com- 
mitted by  a  sober  man  is  punishable  with 
death,  should  not  be  penal  to  a  man  that  is  in 
drink:  as  if  the  guilt  of  one  sin  should  be 
absolved  by  the  being  guilty  of  another; 
and  that,  when  under  the  law,  drunkenness 
was  punished  with  death,  under  the  gospel 
it  should  excuse  a  murderer  from  death, 
who  by  the  law  and  the  gospel  ought  not  to 
be  suffered  to  live;  that  a  circumstance  of 
high  aggravation  should  be  applied  to  the 
mitigation  of  a  censure,  that  ought  tp  be  the 


OF  DRUNKENNESS.  71 

more  severe;  nay,  even  to  constitute  such 
an  innorehce  as  is  not  worthy  of  a  censure. 
The  philosopher  can  assure  us,  "Json  facit 
ebrietas  vitia,  sed  protrahit,"  drunkenness 
doth  but  produce  and  manifest  the  tuaUce 
that  lay  conceided,  creates  it  not:  "Vis  vini 
quicquid  mali  latebat  emergit  '  wine  infuses 
no  ill  desires,  it  only  makes  those  appear 
which  lay  hid;  it  publishes  what  tl.'e  heart 
hath  entertained,  and  makes  vice  more  im- 
pudent that  was  as  mischievous  before:  the 
licentious  person  doth  then  that  in  the  streets 
which  he  doth  at  other  times  in  his  cham- 
ber, and  because  he  upbraids  justice  aloud 
and  provokes  it,  he  must  be  unchaetised,  and 
only  admonished  that  he  be  more  wary  in 
his  excesses.  What  is  this  but  to  cherish 
and  foment  an  abomination,  against  whirh  no 
less  judgment  than  that  of  hell  fire  is  de- 
nounced? There  is  not  in  the  wliole  body  of 
the  civil  law,  one  text,  that  declares  drunk- 
enness to  be  a  crime,  or  th;il  provides  a 
punishment  for  it;  on  the  contrary,  ''Ebriis 
quandoque  venia  dari  solet  derelinquentibus, 
tanquam  sepultis,  et  nescientibus,"  pardon  is 
rather  given  to  such  offenders,  as  to  persons 
buried,  and  not  knowing  what  they  do:  and 
Calvin  says  expressly,  ''Jure  nostro  poena 
Biinuitur,  quod  in  ebrio  dolus  aWsse  pute- 


72  LORD    clarendon's  ESSAYS. 

tur;"  it  is  the  privilege  of  a  drunkard  to  be 
less  punished  than  other  men,  because  he  is 
supposed  to  mean  no  harm.  And  that  we 
may  not  impute  this  monstrous  indulgence 
to  the  easiness  and  corruption  of  the  judges, 
the  Digests  have  an  express  text,  (Li.  49. 
Titu.  16.)  "per  vinum  et  lasciviani  lapsis 
capitalis  pcena  remittenda  est,"  a  capital 
punishment  must  not  be  inflicted  upon  those 
who  are  criminal  through  wine  or  lust  : 
which  must  be  an  excellent  law  to  govern 
nations  by.  And  yet  the  latter  may  seem  to 
be  more  excusable  than  the  former,  since  it 
may  proceed  from  the  impulsion  of  nature; 
whereas  the  other  is  affectedly  and  industri- 
ously entered  upon  with  the  nauseating  and 
aversion  of  nature,  and  is  purely  the  effect 
of  a  malicious  appetite  and  wantonness. 
What  shall  we.  say  then  to  that  which  is 
most  horrible,  that  in  any  Christian  country 
it  should  not  be  looked  upon  as  a  sin,  as  an 
offence  that  needs  God's  forgiveness?  In 
Germany,  they  are  not  obliged  to  confess 
being  drunk,  as  if  sobriety  were  a  Chrii»(ain 
virtue  inconsistent  with  the  health  and  tem- 
per of  the  nation,  and  the  contrary  neces- 
sary to  be  dispensed  with  for  the  public 
good  and  benefit.  We  may  surely  say,  (hat 
Christianity  hath  not  done  its  perfect  work 


OF  ENVY.  73 

in  that  country,  how  catholic  soever  it  is; 
that  wherever  that  sin  is  permitted,  Chrisf' 
is  not  sufficiently  preached;  and  where  it  is 
cherished  and  countenanced,  neither  his- 
apostles  or  hinnself  are  credited  or  believed; 
that  no  integrity  of  opinion  can  absolve  the 
guilt  of  that  practice;  and  we  may  as  rea- 
sonably presume  of  salvation  upon  the  faith 
of  the  Alcoran,  as  with  the  exercise  of  this 
brutish  sin,  against  which  damnation  is  so 
positively  denounced. 


VI.    OF  ENVY. 

:M(Hitpellier,  1670. 

If  envy,  like  anger,  did  not  burn  itself  in  its 
own  Hre,  and  consume  and  destroy  those 
persons  it  possesses,  before  it  can  destroy 
those  it  wishes  worst  to,  it  would  set  the  whole 
world  on  fire,  and  leave  the  most  excellent 
persons  the  most  miserable.  Of  all  the 
aflfections  and  passions  which  lodge  them- 
selves within  the  breast  of  man,  envy  is  the 
most  troublesome,  the  most  restless,  hath 
the  most  of  malignity,  the  most  of  poison  in 
it.  The  object  she  hath  an  immortal  hatred 
to  is  virtue ;  and  the  war  she  makes^  is 
always  against  the  best  and  virtuous  men,  at 
least  against  those   who  have  some  signal 


74  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

perfection.  No  other  passion  vents  itself 
with  that  circumspection  and  dehberation, 
,  and  is  in  all  its  rage  and  extent  in  awe  of 
some  control.  The  most  choleri-^  and  angry 
man  may  offend  an  honest  and  a  worthy  per- 
son, but  he  chooses  it  not;  he  had  rather 
provoke  a  worse  man,  and  r.t  worst  he  re- 
collects himself  upon  the  sight  of  the  magi- 
strate. Lust,  that  is  blind  and  frantic,  gets 
into  the  worst  company  it  can,  and  never 
assaults  chastity.  But  envy,  a  more  perni- 
cious affection  than  either  of  the  other,  is 
inquisitive,  observes  whose  merit  most  draws 
the  eyes  of  men  upon  it,  is  most  crowned  by 
the  general  suffrage;  and  against  that  person 
he  shoots  all  his  venom,  and  without  any 
noise  enters  into  all  unlawful  combinations 
against  him  to  destroy  him:  though  the  high 
condition  Solomon  was  in  kept  him  from 
feeling  the  effects  of  it,  (for  kings  can  only 
be  envied  by  kings),  he  well  discovered  the 
uncontrollable  power  of  it:  "Wrath  is  cruel, 
and  anger  is  outrageous;  but  who  can  stand 
before  envy?"  (Prov.  xxvii,  6.)  Let  wrath 
be  as  cruel  as  it  will,  a  stronger  wrath  can 
disarm  it,  or  application  and  address  can  pa- 
cify it;  fair  words  have  power  over  it,  and 
let  anger  be  never  so  outrageous,  it  can  be 
resisted,  add  will  extinguish  itself:  they  both 


OF  ENvy.  76 

gire  fair  warnina:,  are  discovered  afar  off,> 
and  we^have  time  to  tight  or  fly;  but  envy^ 
hath  no  fixed  open  residence,  no  man  knows 
where  it  dwells,  nor  can  discern  when  it 
marciies;  it  is  a  .-^qvatlroni  volantf,  that  de- 
clares no  war,  but  breaks  into  our  quarters 
when  we  do  not  suspect  it  to  be  near  us, 
wounds  our  reputation,  stifles  the  brightness 
of  our  merit,  and  works  even  upon  our 
friends  to  suspend  their  good  opinion,  and 
to  doubt  whether  they  are  not  deceived, 
and  whether  we  are  as  good  as. we  appear 
to  be.  If  our  credit  be  so  well  built,  so 
firm,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  be  shaken  by 
calumny  and  insinuation,  it  then  over  com- 
mends us,  and  extols  us  beyond  reason 
to  those  upon  whom  we  depend,  till  they 
grow  jealous ;  and  so  blow  us  up  when 
they  cannot  throw  us  down.  There  is  no 
guard  to  be  kept  against  envy,  because  no 
roan  knows  where  it  dwells;  and  generous 
and  innocent  men  are  seldom  jealous  and 
suspicious  till  they  feel  the  wound,  or  dis- 
cern some  notorious  efl'ect  of  it.  It  shel- 
ters itself  for  the  most  part  in  dark  and 
melancholy  constitutions,  yet  sometimes  ^ets 
into  less  suspected  lodgings,  but  never  owns 
to  be  within  when  it  is  asked  for.  All  other 
passions  do  not  on  ly  betray  and  discover,  but 


76  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

likewise  confess  themselves;  the  choleric  man 
confesses  he  is  angry,  and  the  proud  man  con- 
fesses he  is  ambitious;  the  covetous  man 
never  denies  that  he  loves  money,  and  the 
drunkard  confesses  that  he  loves  wine:  but 
no  envious  man  ever  confessed  that  he  did 
envy;  he  commands  his  words  much  better 
than  his  looks,  and  those  would  betray  him, 
if  he  had  not  bodily  infirmities  apparent 
enough,  but  those  of  the  mind  cannot  easily 
be  discovered,  but  in  the  mischief  they  do. 
Envy  pretends  always  to  be  a  rival  to  virtue, 
and  to  court  honour  only  by  merit,  and  never 
to  be  afflicted  but  on  the  behalf  of  justice, 
when  persons  less  meritorious  come  to  be 
preferred;  and  it  is  so  far  true,  that  it  sel- 
dom assaults  unfortunate  virtue,  and  is  as 
seldom  troubled  for  any  success,  how  un- 
worthy soever,  that  doth  not  carry  a  man 
farther  than  the  envious  man  himself  can  at- 
tain to;  he  envies  and  hates,  and  would  de- 
stroy every  man  who  hath  better  parts  or 
better  fortune  than  himself;  and  that  he  is 
not  a  witch,  proceeds  only  from  the  devil's 
want  of  power,  that  he  cannot  give  him  il- 
lustrious conditions,  for  he  hath  more 
pride  and  ambition  than  any  other  sort  of 
sinner. 


OF    PRIDE.  77 


VII.  OF    PRIDE. 


MontpeUier,  1669. 

"The  beginning  of  pride  is  when  one  de- 
parteth  from  uod,  and  his  heart  is  turned 
away  from  his  Maker,"  says  the  son  of  Si- 
rach,  X.  12.  It  is  no  wonder  that  a  proud 
man  despiseth  his  neighbour,  when  he  is  de- 
parted from  his  God;  and  since  he  is  so, 
it  is  no  less  a  wonder  that  he  doth  all  he  can 
to  conceal  himself:  and  he  hath  oftentimes 
very  good  luck  in  doing  it;  and  as  few  men 
ever  acknowledge  themselves  to  be  proud, 
so  they  who  are  so  are  not  easily  discover- 
ed. It  is  a  pride  as  gross  and  as  ridiculous  as 
folly  itself,  which  appears  and  exposes  it- 
self to  the  eyes  of  all  men;  it  is  a  guest 
that  nobody  seems  willing  to  harbour,  and 
yet  it  finds  entrance  and  admission  and  en- 
tertainment in  the  breasts  of  all  men  as  well 
as  women:  it  is  a  weed  that  grows  ia  all 
soils  and  climates,  and  is  no  less  luxuriant  in 
the  country  than  in  the  court;  is  not  confin- 
ed to  any  rank  of  men  or  extent  of  fortune, 
but  rages  in  the  breasts  of  all  degrees. 
Alexander  was  not  prouder  than  Diogenes; 
and  it  may  be,  if  we  would  endeavour  to  sur- 
prise it  in  its  most  gaudy  dress  and  attire,  and 


78  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

in  the  exercise  of  its  full  empire  and  tyranny, 
we  should  lind  it  in  srhoolmasters  and  scho- 
lars, or  in  some  country  lady,  or  the  knight 
her  husband;  all  which  ranks  of  people 
more  despise  their  neighbours,  than  all  the 
degrees  of  honour  in  which  courts  abound: 
and  it  rages  as  much  in  a  sordid  affected 
dress,  as  in  all  the  silks  and  embroideries 
which  the  excess  of  the  age  and  the  folly  of 
youth  delight  to  be  adorned  with.  Since 
then  it  keeps  all  sorts  of  company,  and  wrig- 
gles itself  into  the  liking  of  the  most  contra- 
ry natures  and  dispositions,  and  yet  carries 
so  much  poison  and  venom  with  it,  that  it 
alienates  the  affections  from  heaven,  and 
raises  rebellion  a;zainst  God  himself,  it  is 
worth  our  utmost  care  to  watch  it  in  all  its 
disguises  and  approaches,  that  wo  may  d'i»- 
cover  it  in  its  first  entrance,  and  dislodge  it 
before  it  procures  a  shelter  or  retiring  place 
to  lodge  and  conceal  itself.  Since  God  him- 
self makes  war  against  it;  "Pride  and  arro- 
gance, and  the  evil  ivay  and  the  froward 
mouth,  do  i  hate,"  says  the  spirit  of 
God;  (ProF.  viii.  13.)  since  when  pride 
comes,  then  cometh  shome,  nay  then  Co- 
meth destruction,  we  cannot  be  too  so- 
licitous that  this  declared  destroying  foe 
doth    not    steal    upon    us    unawares,    for 


OF    PRIDE.  78 

want  of  sentinels,  for  want  of  knowing:  bim 
before  he  crowds  in.  Let  us  therefore  take 
as  exact  a  survey  as  vve  can  what  pride  in 
truth  is:  in  the  disquisition  whereof,  be- 
cause we  find  that  they  who  entertain  it 
most,  and  are  raost  possessed  by  it,  use  all  the 
endeavours  and  art  they  can  to  conceal  it  best, 
and  that  tliey  who  are  least  infected  or  cor- 
rupted by  it,  are  oftentimes  suspected  to  have 
it  most,  it  will  not  be  amiss,  in  the  first  place, 
to  consider  the  negative,  What  is  not  pride, 
that  so  often  deceives  fhe  standers-hy,  that 
we  may  the  better  illustrate  the  affirma- 
tive, in  the  stating  what  pride  indeed  is, 
that  is  so  little  suspected  sometimes,  tliat  it 
escapes  all  but  very  vigilant  observations 
upon  the  most  strict  and  sharpest  examina- 
tion. 

The  outward  preservation  of  men's  digni- 
ty, according  to  the  several  qualities  and 
stations  they  hold  in  the  world,  by  their 
birth  or  office,  or  other  qualification,  is  not 
pride.  The  peace  and  quiet  of  nations  can- 
not be  preserved  without  order  and  govern- 
ment; and  order  and  government  cannot  be 
maintained  and  supported  without  distinction 
and  degrees  of  men,  which  must  be  subor- 
dinate one  to  the  other:  where  all  are  equal, 
there   can  be    no  superiority;    and  where 


80  LORD    CLARENDOK's  ESSAYS. 

there  is  no  superiority,  there  can  be  no  obe- 
dience; and  where  there  is  no  obedience, 
there  must  be  great  confusion,  which  is 
the  highest  contradiction  and  opposition  of 
order  and  peace;  and  the  keeping  those 
bounds  and  fences  stricll}'  and  severely,  and 
thereby  obliging  all  men  to  contain  them- 
selves within  the  limits  prescribed  to  them, 
is  very  well  consisting  with  the  greatest 
humility,  and  therefore  can  be  no  disco- 
very or  symptom  of  piide.  And  it  may 
be,  the  most  diaboKcal  pride  may  not  more 
inhabit  in  the  breasts  of  any  sort  of  men, 
than  of  those  who  are  forward  to  stoop 
from  the  dignity  they  ought  to  uphold,  to 
a  mean  and  low  condescension  to  inferior 
persons;  for  all  pride  being  a  violation  of 
justice,  it  may  be  presumed,  or  reasonably 
suspected,  that  he  that  practises  that  injus- 
tice towards  himself  hath  his  ambition  com- 
plied with,  and  satisfied  by  some  unworthy 
effects  from  such  condescension.  I  do  not 
say  that  these  necessary  distances  and  distinc- 
tions and  precedencies  are  always  exercised 
without  pride,  but  that  they  may  be  so  and 
ought  to  be  so.  No  doubt,  men  who  are  in 
the  highest  stations,  and  have  a  pre-eminence 
oyer  other  men,  and  are  bound  to  exer- 
cise that  superiority  over  those  men  who, 


OF    PRIDE.  SI 

it  may  be,  have  been  better  men  than  they, 
and  deserve  still  to  be  so,  to  constrain  them 
to  perform  their  duty,  which  they  ought  to 
do  without  constraint,  have  great  tempta- 
tions, especially  if  they  have  vulgar  minds, 
to  be  proud;  and  ought  to  take  great  care, 
by  their  gentle  and  modest  behaviour  in  their 
conversation,  by  doing  all  the  offices  which 
charity  or  courtesy  invite  them  to,  and  by 
executing  that  most  rigid  part  of  their  obli- 
gation, which  obliges  them  to  punish  cor- 
rupt men  and  corrupt  manners,  without  the 
least  arrogance  or  insolence  towards  their 
persons,  as  if  he  were  well  pleased  with 
the  opportunity;  which  is  in  truth  as  if  he 
could  satisfy  public  justice  and  his  particular 
malice  together,  which  are  inconsistent,  and 
cannot  but  be  the  effect  and  product  of  great 
pride  in  his  heart,  and  he  is  not  glad  that  he 
ran  do  justice  so  much,  as  that  he  takes  re- 
venge upon  a  guilty  person  that  he  doth  not 
love.  The  seat  of  pride  is  in  the  heart,  and 
only  there;  and  if  it  be  not  there,  it  is  nei- 
ther in  the  looks,  nor  in  the  clothes.  A 
cloud  in  the  countenance,  a  melancholy  and 
absence  of  mind,  which  detains  a  man  from 
suddenly  taking  notice  ot  what  is  said  or 
done,  very  often  makes  a  man  thought  to  be 
proud,  who  is  most  free  from  that  corruption; 
roL.  V.  23 


32  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

/  and  the  excess  in  clothes  may  be  some  mani- 
festation of  folly  or  levity,  but  can  be  no 
evidence  of  pride:  for  first,  the  particular 
quality  and  condition  of  men  may  oblige 
them  to  some  cost  and  curiosity  in  their 
clothes;  and  then  the  very  affecting  a  neat- 
ness and  expense  of  decent  habit,  (if  it  does 
not  exceed  the  limits  of  one's  fortune),  is 
not  only  very  lawful,  and  an  innocent  delight, 
but  very  commendable;  and  men,  who  most 
affect  a  gallantry  in  their  dress,  have  hearts 
too  cheerful  and  liberal  to  be  affected  with 
so  troublesome  a  passion  as  pride,  which 
always  possesses  itself  of  the  heart,  and 
branches  itself  out  into  two  very  notable  and 
visible  affections;  which  are,  a  very  high  and 
immoderate  esteem  of  themselves,  and  admi- 
ration and  overvaluing  of  their  own  parts  and 
qualities,  and  a  contempt  of  the  persons  of 
other  men,  and  disesteem  and  undervaluing* 
of  all  their  faculties  and  endowments,  how 
conspicuous  soever  to  all  others:  and  without 
both  those  excesses,  pride  will  hardly  be 
nourished  to  a  monstrous  magnitude;  but 
thus  fed  and  cherished,  outgrows  all  other 
vices,  and  indeed  comprehends  them. 

The  disesteem  and  contempt  of  others  is 
inseparable  from  pride.  It  is  hardly  possi- 
ble to  overvalue  ourselves,  but  by  under- 


OP     PRIDE.  83 

valuing  our  neighbours;  and  we  commonly 
most  undervalue  those  who  are  by  other 
men  thought  to  be  wiser  than  we  are;  and  it 
is  a  kind  of  jealousy  in  ourselves  that  they 
are  so,  which  provokes  our  pride;  "Only 
by  pride  cometh  contention,"  sajs  Solomon 
(Prov.  xiii.  10.)  In  truth,  pride  is  conten- 
tion itself,  an  insolent  passion  that  always 
contends,  and  contends  for  that  which  doth 
not  belong  to  him  who  contends;  contends  by 
calumny  to  rob  another  man  of  his  reputa- 
tion, of  his  good  name;  contends  by  force 
to  extort  that  which  another  man  hath  no 
mind  to  part  with;  and  oftentimes  contends 
by  fraud  and  flattery  to  deprive  a  man 
of  what  barefaced  and  by  force  he  could 
not  compass;  and  does  as  much  contemn 
a  man  whom  he  hath  cozened  and  deceived, 
as  if  he  had  by  courage  overcome  him; 
nay,  he  takes  no  pleasure  in  the  good 
that  is  in  him,  otherwise  than  as  it  is 
set  off  and  illustrated  by  the  infirmities  of 
other  men;  he  doth  not  enjoy  the  advantages 
nature  or  fortune  have  conferred  upon 
him  with  that  relish,  as  when  it  brings  a 
prejudice  to  some  others;  he  never  likes  his 
wit  so  well,  as  when  it  makes  his  companions, 
it  may  be  his  friends,  ridiculous;  nor  ever 
feels  the  pleasure  of  his  fortune  so  much,  as 


84  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

when  it  enables  him  to  oppress  his  neigh» 
bour:  in  the  pursuit  of  his  ambition,  he  had 
much  rather  obtain  an  office  that  is  promised 
to  another,  than  one  that  is  vacant  to  all  pre- 
tenders; to  be  preferred  before  another, 
how  unreasonablj'  or  unjust  soever,  is  a  full 
feast  to  his  pride,  and  a  warrant  in  his  own 
opinion  ever  after  to  prefer  himself  before 
all  men;  and  if  he  could  have  his  wish,  he 
would  see  all  men  miserable  who  have  con- 
tended with  him,  and  presumed  to  think 
themselves  worthy  of  any  thing  which  he 
hath  been  content  to  accept:  whatever  bene- 
fits and  preferments  other  men  attain  to,  he 
imputes  to  their  fortune,  and  to  the  weak- 
ness of  those  men  who  contributed  to  it,  out 
of  want  of  abilities  to  discover  their  defects 
and  unworthiness;  what  is  thrown  upon  him- 
self, from  the  blind  aifection  and  bounty  of 
his  superiors,  he  receives  as  a  reward  below 
his  merit:  he  sees  no  man  discharge  the 
obligation  of  his  office  and  trust,  but  he  be- 
lieves he  could  do  it  much  better,  and  that 
it  is  partiality,  not  justice,  that  gives  him 
a  good  testimony;  whereas  if  he  comes  to 
have  any  province  of  his  own  to  manage  and 
govern,  no  man  does  it  with  more  remissness 
or  more  insufficiency;  for  he  thinks  it  below 
the  estimation  he  would  have  all  men  to  have 


OF     PRIDE.  86 

of  his  parts  to  ask  advice,  or  to  receive  it 
from  any  man,  who  out  of  kindness  (which 
he  calls  presumption)  offers  to  give  him  any: 
and  if  he  be  so  wise  (as  few  proud  men  are) 
as  to  profit  by  others,  it  is  by  a  haughty  way 
of  asking  questions,  which  seem  to  question 
their  sufficiency  rather  than  a  thought  of 
improving  his  own;  and  he  is  still  more  in- 
quisitive, and  takes  more  pains  to  discover 
the  faults  which  other  men  commit  in  their 
office,  than  to  prevent  or  reform  his  own: 
with  all  his  undervaluing  other  men,  he  is 
far  from  contemning  what  others  say  of  him, 
how  unjust  and  untrue  soever  it  is,  but  is 
grieved  and  afflicted  that  they  dare  do  it,  and 
out  of  fear  that  other  men  would  believe, 
and  so  neglect  and  contemn  him  too;  for 
though  he  takes  no  other  way  to  attain  to  it 
but  by  admiring  himself,  he  doth  heartily 
wish  that  all  men  would  likewise  admire  him. 
Pride,  as  it  is  compounded  of  the  vanity  and 
ill  nature  that  disposes  men  to  admire  theajr . 
selves  aud  to  contemn  other  men  (which  is 
its  genuine  composition)  retains  its  vigour 
longer  than  any  other  vice,  and  rarely  ex- 
pires but  with  life^  itself.  Age  wears  out 
many  other  vices,  loses  the  memory  of  inju- 
ries and  provocations,  and  the  thought  of 
revenge   is   weary    of  the   pursuit  it   hath 


8t>  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

already  mnde,  and  so  is  without  ambition; 
it  hath  outhved  those  appetites  and  affec- 
tions which  were  most  importunate  for  satis- 
ifaction  and  most  obstinate  against  counsel, 
and  so  abhors  both  lusts  and  surfeits;  it 
seldom  engenders  vice  which  it  hath  not 
been  heretofore  acquainted  with:  for  that 
covetousness  which  men  con^monly  think 
that  age  is  most  liable  to,  is  rather  a  diminu- 
tion of  the  generosity  and  bounty  and  ex- 
pense that  youth  is  naturally  delighted  with, 
and  uses  to  exercise,  than  a  sordid  appetite 
and  love  of  money;  and  though  it  be  the 
season  in  which  men  gather  and  collect  most, 
and  beep  it  by  them  when  they  have  gather- 
ed it,  it  is  (as  was  said  before)  because  they 
know  not  how  to  spend  it,  and  the  bounty 
that  was  in  their  nature  is  shrunk  and  dried 
up,  and  they  take  no  pleasure  in  giving;  be- 
sides, that  age  is  always  apprehensive  of 
want,  and  therefore  loves  to  be  provided' 
against  all  possible  accidents  and  emergen- 
cies. But  pride  finds  a  welcome  and  plea- 
sant residence  in  that  parched  flesh  and  dried 
bones,  and  exercises  itself  more  imperiously, 
because  it  meets  not  with  that  opposition  and 
contradiction  which  it  usually  linds  in  younger 
company.  Age,  though  it  too  often  consists 
only  in  length  of  days,  in  having  been  longer 


OP     PRIDE.  87 

than  other  men,  not  in  the  experiments  of 
life  above  those  who  are  much  younger,  is 
naturally  censorious,  and  expects  reverence 
and  submission  to  their  white  hairs,  which 
they  cannot  challenge  to  any  rudiments  or 
example  which  they  have  given  to  virtue; 
and  superciliously  censure  all  who  are 
younger  than  themselves,  and  the  vices  of 
the  present  time  as  new  and  unheard  of, 
when  in  truth  they  are  the  very  same  they 
practised,  and  practised  as  long  as  they  were 
able;  they  talk  much  of  their  observation  and 
experience,  in  order  to  be  obeyed  in  things 
they  understand  not,  and  out  of  vanity  and 
morosity  contract  a  pride  that  never  departs 
from  them  whilst  they  are  alive,  and  they  die 
in  an  opinion  that  they  have  left  none  wiser 
behind  them,  though  they  have  left  none  be- 
hind them,  who  ever  had  any  esteem  of  their 
wisdom  and  judgment. 

But  when  we  have  laid  all  the  reproaches 
upon  it  that  it  deserves,  to  make  it  odious  to 
ourselves  and  to  all  the  world,  and  have 
raised  all  the  fences  and  fortifications  we  can 
against  it,  to  keep  it  from  entering  upon  and 
into  us,  we  have  need  still  to  have  recourse 
to  God  Almighty,  and  to  implore  his  assistance 
in  the  guarding  us  from  the  assaults  of  this 
bold  enemy;  that  he  will  prescribe  us  from  its 


88  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

approaches  when  we  most  approach  him, 
and  when  we  are  doing  that  which  most 
pleases  him;  in  those  seasons  when  we  dis- 
charge our  duty  with  most  integrity,  most 
ability,  and  most  reputation,  that  men  speak 
well  of  us,  and  speak  but  true,  that  he- will 
then  watch  for  us,  that  pride  steal  not  into  our 
hearts,  and  persuade  us  to  think  better  of 
ourselves  than  we  ought  to  do;  that  he  will 
take  care  of  us,  when  we  take  most  care  of 
ourselves  to  preserve  our  innocence,  and 
even  in  our  most  secret  devotions  and  ad- 
dresses to  his  Divine  Majesty,  that  with  the 
serenity  of  conscience  which  is  naturally 
the  eflect  of  such'  devout  addresses,  no 
information  of  pride  may  enter  into  us,  to 
make  us  believe  that  we  are  better  than 
other  men,  which  will  quickly  make  us 
worse;  that  he  will  not  suffer  us  to  grow, 
from  the  vices  of  others,  because  by  his 
grace  we  are  yet  without  those  vices  which 
they  are  transported  with,  proud  of  that 
which  in  truth  is  virtue  in  us;  that  we  be  not 
exalted  with  our  own  integrity,  and  neglect 
and  despise  those  applications  and  condescen- 
sions which  are  necessary  in  this  world  to 
the  support  of  the  greatest^inlegrity  and  in- 
nocence. The  pride  of  a  good  conscience 
hath  often  exposed  many  men  to  great  cala- 


OF     PAIDE.  80 

mities,  when  they  have  too  much  neglected 
the  friendships  and  affections  of  others,  it 
may  be  the  better  to  preserve  their  inno- 
cence; and  so  have  been  abandoned  in  the 
time  of  powerful  calumny  and  persecution 
by  those,  who  having  reverence  for  their 
virtue,  yet  are  without  kindness  for  their 
persons,  and  so  conclude  that  they  are  the 
less  concerned  for  justice,  because  they  are 
not  at  all  concerned  for  their  affection,  or  for 
any  obligation  they  have  received.  It  is 
very  necessary  therefore,  that  they  who 
do  their  duty  best,  and  have  the  greatest  evi- 
dence and  testimony  of  a  good  conscience 
within  their  own  breasts,  have  likewise  the 
greatest  care  that  they  be  not  only  not  exalt- 
ed with  that  pride  of  conscience,  but  that 
they  be  not  suspected  to  be  so;  and  it  is 
great  pity  that  so  ill  an  effect  should  proceed 
from  so  good  a  cause;  that  the  same  upright- 
ness and  integrity,  which  raises  naturally 
jealousy,  and  envy,  and  malice,  in  the  hearts 
of  other  men,  should  deprive  those  who  are 
possessed  of  it  of  all  wariness  and  dexterity 
and  address,  which  is  at  least  convenient  for 
the  manifestation  and  support  of  that  since- 
rity and  uprightness:  ."  He  is  grievous  unto 
lis  even  to  behold,  for  his  hfe  is  not  like 
*ther  men's,  his  ways  are  of  another  fashion; 


90  LORD    clarendon's   ESSAYS. 

let  us  examine  him  with  despitefulness  and 
torture,  that  we  may  know  his  meekness, 
and  prove  his  patience,"  (Wisdom  Sol.  ii. 
15,  19,)  hath  been  the  doctrine  and  practice 
of  the  \vorld  from  Solomon's  time  to  the  age 
in  which  we  live;  and  whilst  this  conspira- 
cy continues,  the  best  men  will  have  need 
of  good  friends  and  powerful  vindicators, 
which  must  be  procured  by  private  corre- 
spondences as  well  as  public  justice,  and  bj 
private  obligations  as  an  evident  iuclinatiou 
and  propensity  to  oblige  ;  for  whatever 
secret  veneration  virtue  hath  for  itself  even 
from  the  worst  men,  it  seldom  finds  protec- 
tion from  the  best. 

We  cannot  be  too  jealous,  we  cannot  sus- 
pect ourselves  too  much  to  labour  under  this 
disease,  which  cleaves  the  closer  to  us  by 
our  belief  or  confidence  that  we  are  quite 
without  it.  We  may  very  properly  say  of 
pride  as  the  philosopher  said  of  flattery, 
"Apertis  et  propitiis  auribus  recipitur,  et  in 
praecordia  ima  descendit;  eo  ipso  gratiosa 
quod  laedit;"  it  tickles  when  it  hurts  us,  and 
administers  some  kind  of  pleasure  and  de- 
light when  it  is  even  ready  to  destroy  us. 
Few  men  are  displeased  to  hear  themselves 
well  spoken  of,  though  it  be  to  themselves; 
and  many  proud  men  feel  a  kind  of  satisfac- 


•  OF  ANGER.  91 

tion  in  being  treated  with  respect  upon  their 
death-bed,  of  which  there  have  been  many 
instances.  Nor  can  those  dehberate  direc- 
tions for  the  form  and  method  of  the  funeral, 
the  provision  for  mourners,  and  the  struc- 
ture of  a  tomb,  flovv  from  any  thing  in  those 
scasonj?,  but  from  the  remainder  of  that  pride 
that  will  not  expire  before  us.  Whatever 
lawful  custom  and  decency  require,  they  who 
outlive  us  will  provide  for  our  memory.  It 
is  very  hard,  at  the  same  time,  to  think  of 
the  pomp  of  a  funeral,  and  humbly  enough 
of  the  carcase  that  is  to  be  interred,  of  the 
company  it  is  to  keep  in  the  grave,  and  of 
the  progeny  of  worms  that  is  to  increase  out 
of  it.  To  conclude;  without  the  sovereign 
influence  of  God's  extraordinary  and  imme- 
diate grace,  men  do  very  rarely  put  off  all 
the  trappings  of  their  pride,  till  they  who 
are  about  them  put  on  their  winding-sheet. 


VIII.    OF  ANGER. 

Mbotpellia:,  10001 

"He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than  the 
mighty,"  is  an  observation  as  ancient  as  Sol- 
omon's time  (Prov.  xvi.  32  )  and  hath  been 
confirmed  in  all  ages  since;  he  that  can  ab> 


92  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

stain  from  it,  is  master  of  most  men,  and 
seldom  fails  of  any  design  he  proposes  to 
himself.  A  man  that  is  undisturbed  in  what 
he  goes  about,  will  rarely  be  disappointed 
of  his  end:  whereas,  on  the  contrary,  anger 
is  the  most  impotent  passion  that  accompanies 
the  mind  of  man  ;  it  effects  nothing  it  goes 
about;  and  hurts  the  man  who  is  possessed  by 
it  more  than  any  other  against  whom  it  is 
directed.  It  exposes  him  to  laughter  and 
contempt,  without  any  return  in  satisfaction 
and  content,  as  most  of  the  other  passions  do; 
it  is  a  barren  and  unfruitful  vice,  and  only 
torments  him  who  nourishes  it.  The  philo- 
sopher thought  it  so  useless  a  passion,  that 
he  could  not  tell  to  what  service  to  apply  it; 
he  would  by  no  means  suffer  it  in  battles  or 
actions  of  war,  where  one  might  believe  it 
might  be  of  most  advantage,  and  carry  men 
to  the  utmost  daring,  which  is  often  very 
successful,  and  hath  brought  great  and  unex- 
pected things  to  pass;  but  he  found  that  it 
did  naturally  degenerate  into  rashness,  "Et 
pericula  dum  inferre  vult  non  cavet;"  and 
that  the  prevalent  temper  in  those  enter- 
prises was,  that  "qui  se  diu  multumque  cir- 
qumspexit,  et  rexit,  et  ex  lento,  et  destinato 
provexit,"  which  anger  will  never  permit 
him.  And  surely,  if  it  be  not  seasonable  in 
those   angry  contentions,  it  is  much  more 


OF  ANGER.  03 

inconvenient  in  the  more  calm  seasons  of 
business  and  conversation:  in  business  he 
rejects  all  that  is  proposed  by  other  men, 
and  superciliously  determines  that  his  own 
advice  is  to  be  followed;  in  conversation  he 
is  full  of  unpeaceable  contradictions,  and 
impatient  at  being  contradicted  ;  so  that, 
though  upon  some  considerations,  he  be  en- 
dured in  company,  he  is, never  desired  or 
wished  for.  "An  angry  man  (if  you  believe 
Solomon)  stirreth  up  strife;"  he  cannot  only 
not  be  a  friend,  but  not  suffer  others  to  be 
so:  it  is  not  possible  for  him  to  be  at  peace 
with  others,  when  he  hath  a  perpetual  war 
with  himself;  people  who  are  not  like  him, 
cannot  or  will  not  live  with  him;  and  if  he 
be  with  those  who  are  like  him,  neither  of 
them  can  live  long. .  Seneca  thinks  it  a  no- 
table argument  to  men  to  avoid  and  suppress 
it,  "non  moderationis  causa,  sed  sanitatis," 
because  "ingentis  irae  exitus  furor  est;"  but 
the  truth  is,  he  doth  anger  too  much  honour 
who  calls  it  madness,  which,  being  a  distem- 
per of  the.brain,  and  a  total  absence  of  all 
reason,  is  innocent  in  all  the  ill  effects  it 
may  produce;  whereas  anger  is  an  affected 
madness  compounded  of  pride  and  folly,  and 
an  intention  to  do  commonly  more  mischief 
than  it  can  bring  to  pass:  and  without  doubt 


94  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

of  all  passions  which  naturally  disturb  the 
mind  of  man,  it  is  most  in  our  power  to  ex- 
tinguish, at  least  to  suppress  and  correct, 
our  anger. 

That  we  may  not  flatter  ourselves  with  an 
imagination  that  anger  may  be  commendable 
in  us,  and  seem  to  have  something  of  injunc- 
tion to  support  it  in  Scripture  itself,  we  shall 
find  it  with  a  restriction  that  quickly  con- 
vinces us,  that  it  is  not  of  kin  to  our  anger: 
"Be  angry,  but  sin  not."  If  we  are  sure  that 
our  anger  is  only  on  God's  behalf,  for  some 
indignity  done  to  him  in  the  neglect  of  his  ser- 
vice, or  for  the  practice  of  some  vice  or 
wickedness  that  he  hath  prohibited:  if  we 
are  oflfended,  and  feel  some  commotions 
within  us,  in  seeing  loose  and  indecent 
things  done,  and  in  hearing  lascivious  and 
profane  things  spoken;  and  break  out  into 
sharp  and  angry  reprehensions  and  advice, 
where  we  may  well  do  it;  we  shall  never  be 
ashamed  of  that  anger:  if  we  can  be  angry 
and  charitable  together,  and  be  willing  to  do 
good  to  him  with  whom  we  are  most  angry, 
we  shall  have  no  cause  to  repent  our  anger, 
nor  others  to  condemn  it.  But  we  have  too 
much  cause  to  doubt,  that  this  warrantable 
anger  will  not  give  us  content  and  delight 
enough  to  be  affected  with  it;  it  will  do  us 


OF  PATIENCE  IN  ADVERSITY.  96 

no  good  because  it  will  do  others  no  hurt, 
and  so  will  give  us  no  credit  with  other  men. 
We  shall  do  very  well,  if  we  do  restrain  and 
suppress  and  extinguish  all  other  anger,  and 
are  only  transported  with  this.  If  we  do  not, 
and  are  angry  only  to  grieve  and  terrify 
others,  and  therefore  angry  that  they  may  be 
grieved  and  terrified,  and  not  for  any  thing 
that  they  have  done  amiss,  but  because  we 
would  not  have  had  them  done  it;  or  if  we 
suffer  no  bounds  or  limits  to  be  prescribed 
to  our  anger,  be  the  cause  of  it  never  so  just 
and  reasonable,  by  decency,  reason,  and  jus- 
tice; our  passion  is  thereby  the  more  un- 
justifiable, by  the  countenance  we  would 
drakv  to  it  from  divinity,  and  ought  to  be  the 
more  carefully  extinguished  and  extirpated 
by  our  shame  and  by  our  repentance. 


IX.    OF  PATIENCE  IN  ADVERSITY. 

Montpellia:,  1669. 

If  we  considered  seriously  (and  our  obser- 
vation and  experience  supplies  every  man 
abundantly  with  matter  for  those  considera- 
tions) the  folly  and  madness  and  inconve- 
nience and  mischief  of  passion  and  impa- 
tience, the  pain  and  agony  that  is  begotten 


96  LOR8  clarendon's  essays. 

by  it  within  ourselves,  and  the  damage  and 
disreputation  abroad  with  other  men,  we 
should  not  need  many  arguments  to  persuade 
us  of  the  benefit  and  ease  of  patience;  and 
if  we  considered  patience  only  as  a  moral 
virtue,  as  a  natural  sobriety  and  temper  ia 
subduing  and  regulating  our  affections  and 
passions,  as  an  absence  of  that  anger  and 
rage  and  fury  wiiich  usually  transports  us 
upon  ordinary  and  trivial  provocation?,  we 
could  not  but  acknowledge  the  great  advan- 
tage men  have  by  it.  Solomon  seems  to  re- 
quire nothing  else  to  make  a  wise  man; 
"He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  of  great  under- 
standing." Prov.  xiv.  29.  And  indeed, 
there  is  nothing  so  much  corrupts  and  de- 
stroys «nd  infatuates  the  understanding  as 
anger  and  passion;  insomuch  as  men  of  very 
indifferent  parts,  by  the  advantage  of  temper 
and  composure,  are  much  wiser  and  fitter 
for  great  actions,  and  are  usually  more  pros- 
perous, than  men  of  more  subtle  and  sub- 
lime parts,  of  more  quickness  and  fancy, 
with  the  warmth  and  choler  that  many  times 
attends  those  compositions  :  "  He  that  is 
hasty  of  spirit  exalteth  folly,"  says  Solomon, 
Prov  xiv,  29;  that  is,  so  improves  his  folly, 
that  he  seems  more  foolish  than  in  truth  he 
is;  he  says  things  he  does  not  intend  to  say, 


OP    PATIENCE    IN    ADVERSITY.  97 

and  does  things  he  does  not  intend  to  do, 
and  refreshes  his  enemies  with  the  folly  of 
his  anger:  whereas  the  temperate,  unrash, 
and  dispassionate  man  is  alwa}s  at  home, 
and,  by  being  unmoved  himself,  discerns  all 
advantages  whilst  he  gives  none.  "  He  that 
is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than  the  mighty, 
and  he  that  ruleth  his  spirit  than  he  that 
taketh  a  city,"  Prov.  xvi.  32.  One  trans- 
lation renders  it,  "  qui  dominatur  animo 
suo,  expugnator  est  urbium;"  he  that  can 
suppress  his  passions  is  even  the  master  of 
all  cities,  no  strength  can  resist  him.  So 
that  if  we  intended  nothing  but  our  own  ease, 
and  benefit,  and  advantage,  we  have  rea- 
son to  apply  ourselves  to  and  study  this 
temper,  in  which  the  precepts  of  the  philo- 
phers  give  us  ample  instructions,  and  the 
practice  of  mere  heathen  men  has  left  us 
notable  and  envious  examples  :  but  the  obli- 
gations of  Christianity  carr_y  us  much  farther; 
we  must  add  to  temperance,  patience,  which 
is  a  Christian  virtue  of  so  hign  a  qualifica- 
tion, that  Tertullian  translates  that  direction 
of  our  Saviour  in  the  21st  chapter  of  St. 
Luke's  gospel,  ver.  19,  "  In  your  patience 
possess  your  sohIs,"  "  per  tolerantiam  salvos 
facietis  vosmetipsos,!'  you  shall  save  your 
souls  by  your  patience;  which,  if  we  could 
VOL.  V.  24 


38  LORD  clarendon's  ESSAYS;    ^ 

be  persuaded  in  any  degree  to  give  credit 
to,  we  would  not  so  much  indulge  to  that 
licence  of  our  impatient  humour,  as  we  do 
upon  the  least  accidental  crosses. 

The  exercise  of  this  necessary  Christian 
duty  depends  principally  upon  the  attending 
ar.d  waiting  God's  own  time  and  leisure  for 
the  receiving  those  blessings,  which,  upon 
the  conscience  of  having  according  to  our 
weak  abilities  endeavoured  to  please  him, 
we  may  confidently  pray  for  and  expect,,  and 
our  humble  and  dutiful  submissions  to  such 
afflictions  and  calamities  as  he  hath  or  shall 
lay  upon  us  ;  for  we  must  provide  a  stock  of 
patience  for  the  crosses  that  may  befall  us: 
and  from  these  two  branches  of  patience, 
we  may  gather  fruit  enough  to  refresh  us 
throughout  our  whole  joux'ney  in  this  world. 
Toward  the  attaining  the  first,  if  we  would 
ingenuously  and  faithfully  consult  our  own 
practice  in  mattei-s  of  this  world,  our  own 
rules  of  good  husbandry,  we  could  not  think 
this  waiting  and  expecting  God's  leisure,  in 
the  conferring  his  blessings  and  benefits,  so 
grievous  as  it  appears  to  us.  How  willing 
are  we  to  lay  out  our  estates  in  the  pur- 
chase of  reversions,  many  times  for  some- 
what that  younger  men  than  ourselves  must 
die  before  we  enjoy  it ;  and  if  they  outlive 


OF  PATIENCE  IN  ADVERSITY.       99 

US,  our  money  is  lost?  And  yet  with  the  un- 
reasonable confidence  that  we  shall  here- 
after enjoy  it,  and  with  the  comfort  of  that 
expectation,  we  cheerfully  endure  the  pre- 
sent wants  and  delay.  If  we  make  any  suit 
to  the  king,  or  our  superiors,  how  well  are 
we  satisfied  and  contented,  if  we  have  the 
promise  of  the  thing  we  ask  a  year  hence, 
when  it  is  more  than  an  even  lay  that  we 
live  not  till  that  time,  and  there  are  in  our 
view  a  thousand  contingencies  which  may 
disappoint  us,  if  we  do  live  so  long?  Nay, 
We  choose  rather,  and  we  think  there  is  a 
merit  in  that  modesty,  to  ask  somewhat  that 
is  to  come,  rather  than  any  thing  for  the 
present.  But  we  are  not  willing  to  lay  out 
one  prayer,  to  disburse  one  innocent  act  of 
our  life  to  God  upon  a  reversion.  If  we  re- 
ceive his  promise,  we  reckon  everj'  day's 
delay  an  injury,  though  it  be  only  a  promise 
for  the  future.  So  that,  pretend  what  we 
will,  and  magnify  what  we  can  our  religion 
towards  God,  and  our  confidence  in  him,  we 
do  in  truth  less  believe  and  credit  him,  tlian 
any  friend  or  companion  we  have.  If  we 
did  otherwise,  we  should  better  observe  his 
precepts  of  patience,  and  reliance  upon  him; 
and  believe,  that  as  they,  who  can  bear  the 
present  Want,  in  the  end  gain  most  who  deal 


loo  LORD  clarendon's  ESSAYS. 

in  reversions;  so  if  we  would  forbear'  our 
present  murmurings  and  importunities,  and 
stay  the  full  time,  till  the  interruptions  our 
own  pins  or'  his  j>rovidence  cast  in  the  way, 
are  worn  out,  we  should  in  the  end  receive 
a  large  interest  for  all  our  expectation,  and 
have   cause    to  magnify   our    purchase;   we 
should  rather  conclude,  when  we  are  disap- 
pointed, that  the  conditions  are  broken  on 
our  part,  which  we  are  so  unapt  to  perform, 
than    that   God    hath    broken    his    promise, 
tvhich  he  was  never  known  to  do;  we  should 
call  to  our  memory,  that  most  of  the  calami- 
ties  which   bpfell  his  own  chosen  people, 
proceeded  irom  their  own  murmurings  and 
imj-atience,  and  that  the  least  impatience  to- 
wards him,  grows  by  degrees  to  an  infidelity 
in    him,    which    we   cannot    endure   to    be 
thought  guilty  of:  we  should  remember  with 
what  disdain   we  look  upon  those  who   will 
not  take  our  word,  which  many  times  is  not 
in  our  power  to  keep,  seldom  in  our  will; 
and  yet  we    make  no  scruple  to  doubt  the 
accomplishment  of  God's  word,  though  we 
know    all  things   to   be   in   his   power,   and 
whatsoever  is  good  for  us  in  his  purpose: 
whereas  patience  is  so  much  and   so  essen- 
tially of  the  character  of  a  Christian,    that 
no  performance  of  our  duty,  and  of  his  com- 


OF    PATIENCE    IN    ADVERSITY.  101 

mands  on  our  part,  can  be  a  security  and  an 
assurance  of  his  blessing  upon  us  without  it; 
which  was  very  evident  to  St.  Paul,  when, 
in  the  lOth  chapter  of  his  epistle  to  the 
Hebrews,  at  the  36th  verse,  he  says,  "  For 
ye  have  need  of  patience,  that  after  ye  have 
done  the  will  of  God,  ye  might  receive  the 
promise;"  as  if  God  had  made  no  promise 
to  those  who  are  not  patient  to  expect  his 
performance.  The  truth  is,  God  cannot  so 
well  know,  that  is,  we  do  not  so  well  and 
clearly  manifest,  that  we  have  done  his  will 
out  of  piety  and  devotion  to  him,  as  by  our 
patience  to  wait  his  pleasure  when  we  have 
done  it.  There  may  be  design  in  the  prac- 
tice of  all  external  duties  of  Christianity  for 
our  advantage  in  this  world:  the  formal  out- 
ward profession  of  religion  may  be,  and  we 
see  too  often  is,  to  get  so  much  reputation, 
and  interest,' and  dependence  with  men,  as 
may  enable  us  to  destroy  religion;  our  exer- 
cise of  charity  may  have  pride  and  vanity 
to  be  recommended  and  magnified,  and  even 
covetousness  in  it,  that  we  may  get  credit 
enough  to  oppress  other  men,  and  upon  the 
stock  of  that  one  public  virtue,  be  able  to 
practise  twenty  secret  wickednesses.  But 
our  patience  (I  speak  of  that  Christian 
patience  of  waiting  God's  own  time  for  the 


102  LORD  clarendon's  essavs. 

receiving  those  blessings  we  pray  for,  and  is 
an  internal  submission  of  the  mind  to  him) 
can  have  no  stratagem  upon  this  world,  nor 
do  us  credit  and  advantage  with  ill  men, 
being  all  that  time  subjected  to  their  inso- 
lence, reproach,  and  tyranny  ;  and  therefore 
St.  James  makes  it  the  end  and  complement 
and  crown  of  all  that  we  do:  "  Let  patience 
have  her  perfect  work,  that  ye  may  be  per- 
fect and  entire,  wanting  nothing,"  James  i. 
4.  Which  though  Tremellius  renders,  "  et 
in  nulla  re  sitis  destituti,"  as  if  patience  so 
supplied  all  wants  and  defects,  that  we  are 
not  over  sensible  or  grieved  with  those 
wants,  yet  the  Vulgate  (and  with  that  Beza 
concurs)  hath  it,  "  ut  sitis  integri,  in  nuUo 
deficientes,"  that  you  may  be  entire,  want- 
ing in  nothing;  which  seems  most  agreeable 
with  the  original:  as  if  it  were  impossible 
we  could  be  defective  in  any  thing,  if  we 
were  endowed  with  patience,  which  can 
proceed  only  from  the  conscience  of  having 
done  our  duty,  or  the  reasonable  confidence 
that  God  hath  accepted  us  as  if  we  had;  for 
the  bold  habitual  wicked  man,  pretend  what 
he  will  to  temper  and  sobriety,  never  had, 
never  can  have  patience.  Though  this  in- 
comparable sovereign  virtue  is  of  great  use 
and  comfort  to  us  in  the  whole  course  of  our. 


OF    PATIENCE    IN    ADVERSITY.  103 

life,  be  it  never  so  pleasant  and  prosperous, 
without  any  interruptions  of  nature,  by  in- 
firmities, sickness,  or  diseases,  or  accidents 
of  fortune  in  the  casual  interruptions  in  our 
very  conversation  and  commerce  with  men, 
yet  the  most  signal  and  glorious  use  of  it  is 
in  our  adversity  and  calamity,  when  the 
hand  of  God  is  heavy  upon  us,  by  the  per- 
fidiousness  of  friends,  the  treachery  of  ser- 
vants, the  power,  injustice,  and  oppression 
of  those  men  with  whom  we  are  to  live;  and 
in  those  afflictions,  which  deprive  us  of  the 
comfort  of  our  families,  the  supply  of  our 
estates,  the  joy  of  our  liberty,  and  all  those 
particulars  which  render  life  pleasant  to  us; 
and  in  li^u  thereof  expose  us  to  want  and 
poverty,  and  to  the  insolence  and  contempt 
which  usually  attends  that  miserable  condi- 
tion. And  truly,  in  this  case,  if  we  could 
give  ourselves  no  other  argument  for  pa- 
tience, methinks  it  should  be  enough  that 
never  any  man  found  ease,  benefit,  or  relief, 
by  impatience,  but  improves,  and  extends, 
and  multiplies  the  agony,  and  pain,  and  mise- 
ry of  whatsoever  calamity  he  undergoes  by 
it;  whereas  patience  lessens  and  softens  the 
burden,  and  by  degrees  raises  the  constitu- 
tion and  strength  to  that  pitch,  that  it  is 
hardly  sensible  of  it,     And  if  we  would  \fxit 


104  LORD    clarendon's   ESSAYS. 

deal  faithfully  with  ourselves  and  the  world, 
and  report  and  acknowledge  how  much  we 
have  found  ourselves  the  better  for  our  ad- 
versity; how  by  it  we  have  corrected  the 
follies  and  infirmities  of  our  nature,  improv- 
ed the  faculties  of  our  mind  and  understand- 
ing, mended  ourselves  towards  God  and 
man;  we  should  be  so  far  from  needing  pa- 
tience to  bear  it,  that  we  should  even  thirst, 
and  long  and  desire  to  undergo  it:  "  It  is 
good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted  (says 
the  man  after  God's  own  heart)  that  I  might 
learn  thy  statutes,"  Psal  cxix.  71.  He  that 
had  been  brought  up  from  his  cradle  in  the 
knowledge  of  God,  and  lived  suitable  to  that 
education,  learned  more  from  his  affliction 
than  he  had  done  all  his  life  before:  that 
presented  all  his  infirmities  to  him  in  a  true 
mirror;  he  discerned  his  pride  and  his  pas- 
sion in  their  own  colours,  which  appeared 
before  to  him  only  in  the  dress  of  majesty 
and  power.  The  greater  and  the  higher  we 
are  in  place,  the  more  we  want  this  sove- 
reign remembrancer.  Mean  and  inferior 
people  have  their  faults  as  often  objected  to 
them  as  they  commit  them,  it  may  be  often- 
er;  the  counsels  of  friends,  the  emulation, 
envy,  and  opposition,  of  equals,  the  malice 
of  their  enemies,  and  the  authority  and  pre- 


or    PATIENCE    IN    ADVERSITY.  106 

jadice  id  their  superiors,  will  often  present 
their  defects  to  them,  and  interrupt  any  ca- 
reer of  their  passion  and  vanity;  but  princes 
ind  great  men,  who  can  have  few  friends 
(because  friendship  presuppoaeth  some  kind 
or^quality),  whose  counsellors  are  common- 
ly compliers  with  their  humours,  and  flat- 
terers of  their  infirmities,  who  are  seldom 
chtcked  by  want  of  success  in  what  they 
propose  to  themselves,  have  little  help  but 
the'tr  own  observation  and  experience  to 
curt  their  follies  and  defects;  and  that  ob- 
servation and  experience  is  never  so  preg- 
nant and  convincing,  as  under  adversity, 
which  refreshes  the  memory,  makes  it  re- 
volve that  which  was  purposely  laid  aside 
that  it  might  never  be  remembered;  reforms 
and  sharpens  the  understanding,  and  faithful- 
ly collects  all  that  hath  been  left  undone,  or 
hath  been  done  amiss,  and  presents  it  to  the 
judgment ;  which,  now  that  the  clouds  and 
fumes  and  mists  of  pride,  ambition,  and  flat- 
tery, that  used  to  transport  and  intoxicate 
and  mislead  it,  are  dispersed,  discerns  what 
misfortunes  attended  thos6  faults,  what  ruin 
that  wickedness,  the  gradation  and  progress 
each  error  bath  made,  and  how  close  the 
punishment  had  attended  the  transgression: 
every  faculty  of  the  mind  does  its  office  ex- 


106  LORD    clarendon's  ESSAYS. 

4 

actly,  so  that  how  disturbed  and  disquieted 
soever  the  body  is,  without  doubt  the  mind 
was  never  in  better  health  than  under  this  ex- 
amination. Besides,  if  there  were  no  other 
good  to  be  expected  from  it,  than  what  keeps 
it  company;  if  we  were  not  sure  by  well 
bearing  it  to  be  freed  from  it,  and  rewarded 
for  it;  the  very  present  benefit  and  advan- 
tages it  gives  us,  and  gives  us  title  to.  renders 
it  most  ambitiously  to  be  desired;  it  entitles 
us  to  the  compassion  and  pity  of  all  good 
men:  "To  him  that  is  afflicted  pity  should 
be  shewed  from  his  friend,"  says  Jobvi,  14. 
Nay,  it  gives  us  a  title  to  salvation  itself: 
"  For  thou  wilt  save  the  afflicted  people," 
says  holy  David,  Psal.  xviii.  27.  Yet  not- 
withstanding all  these  invitations  and  prom- 
ises, all  the  examples  of  good  men,  and  the 
blessings  which  have  crowned  those  exam- 
ples, all  our  own  experience  of  ourselves, 
that  we  have  really  gained  more  understand- 
ing and  more  piety  in  one  year's  affliction 
than  in  the  whole  course  of  our  prosperous 
fortunes,  we  are  so  far  from  a  habit  of  pa- 
tience, and  so  weary  of  our  sufferings,  that 
we  are  even  ready  to  exchange  our  inno- 
cence to  change  our  condition. 

There  was  never  an  age,  in  which  men 
underwent  greater  trials  by  adversity,  and  I 


OF    PATIENCE    IN    ADVERSITY.  107 

fear  scarce  an  age  in  which  there  was  a  less 
stock  of  patience  to  bear  it;  never  more  tri- 
bulation, never  less  glorying  in  trilmlation. 
We  are  all  ready  enough  to  magnify  our  suf- 
ferings, and  our  merit  in  those  sufferings,  to 
make  the  world  believe  we  have  undergone 
them  out  of  our  piety  to  God,  and  devotion  to 
his  worship;  out  of  our  allegiance  to  oursove- 
reign  lord  the  king,  and  because  we  would 
not  consent  to  the  violation  of  that,  and  the 
wresting  his  rights  from  him  by  violence;  out 
of  our  tender  affection  to  our  native  country, 
and  because  we  would  not  consent  that 
should  be  subject  to  the  exorbitant  lawless 
power  of  ambitious  wicked  men;  the  suffer- 
ing for  either  of  which  causes  (and  we  would 
have  it  believed  we  suffer  jointly  for  them 
all)  entitles  us  justly  to  the  merit  of  martyr- 
dom ;  yet  we  are  so  far  from  comforting  and 
delighting  ourselves  with  the  conscience  of 
having  performed  our  duty,  and  from  the  en- 
joying that  ease  and  quiet  which  naturally 
results  from  innocence,  that  we  rather  mur- 
mur and  censure  and  reproach  God  Almigh- 
ty, for  giving  the  trophies  we  have  deserved 
to  those  who  have  oppressed  us  ;  and  study 
nothing  more,  than  stratagems  to  impose  upon 
that  conscience  we  are  weary  of,  and  to  bar- 
ter away  our  innocence,  that  we  may  be  ca- 


108  LORD  CLAREIVDOn's  ESSAYS. 

pable  of  overtaking  those  in  their  properous 
wickedness,  from  whom  we  would  be  thought 
to  have  fled  for  conscience  sake  ;  and  instead 
of  a  confident  attending  and  waiting  God's 
time  to  vindicate  himself  and  us  (for  if  our 
suflferings  proceeded  from  those  grounds  and 
principles  we  pretend,  it^were  so  much  his 
own  cause  that  we  should  be  sure  of  his  vin- 
dication) we  make  excuses  for  the  little  good 
we  have  done,  and  even  renounce  it  by  pro- 
fessing to  be  sorry  tor  it;  and  that  we  may 
be  sure  to  find  no  check  from  our  reason, 
when  we  have  prevailed  with  our  con- 
science, we  corrupt  and  bribe  our  understand- 
ings with  fallacious  argumentations,  and  ar- 
gue ourselves  into  a  liking  of  our  stupidity, 
as  if  we  did  nothing  but  what  God  required 
at  our  hands;  we  say,  God  expects  we  should 
help  ourselves,  and  by  natural  means  endea- 
voured to  remove  from  us  those  aflSictions 
and  calamities  which  the  power  of  ill  men 
has  brought  tipon  us;  that  God  doth  assist 
and  bless  those  endeavours:  on  the  other 
hand,  if  we  sit  still,  and  without  any  indus- 
try of  our  own  look  for  supernatural  delive- 
rance, we  presume  to  put  God  to  a  miracle, 
which  he  will  work  for  us,  and  that  he  will 
countenance  our  lethargic  laziness.  Having 
by  this  argumentation  brought  ourselves  to 


OF  PATIENCE  IN  ADVERSITY.  109 

an  activity,  we  must  then  guide  ourselves 
by  what  is  possible,  and  what  is  practicable, 
that  is,  by  such  rules  and  mediums  as  they 
have  set  down,  with  whom  our  transactions 
must  be  admitted.  When  we  are  then  in 
any  straits,  which  before  our  setting  out  we 
would  not  forsee.  we  have  a  maxim  at  hand 
to  carry  us  on.  Of  two  evils  the  least  is  to  bp 
chosen.  If  we  can  prevent  this  mischief, 
which  seems  to  us  greater,  though  we  are 
guilty  of  another  which  seems  less,  all  is 
well:  especially  it  our  formal  and  tempora- 
ry and  dissembled  consent  to  this  or  that  ill 
act,  enables  us  or  gives  us  a  probable  hope 
(which  is  a  flattery  we  much  delight  our- 
selves, and  are  always  furnished  with)  of 
undoing  or  reversing  those  mischiefs,  which 
for  the  present  we  are  not,  or  think  our- 
selves not  able  to  prevent.  And  having  thus 
speciously  reduced  the  practice  of  Christian- 
ity to  the  notions  of  civil  prudence  and  world- 
ly policy,  we  insensibly  run  into  all  the  guilt 
we  have  hitherto  with  damage  and  loss 
avoided,  and  renounce  all  the  obligations  of 
piety  and  religion  by  our  odious  apostacy. 
It  is  true,  God  experts  we  should  perform 
all  on  our  parts  that  is  laivful  to  be  done  for 
our  own  behoof;  but  when  we  have  done 
that,  he  will  have  us  rely  on  him  for  our  de- 


110  LORD    clarendon's   ESSAY9. 

liverance,  how  distant  soever  it  seems  from 
us,  rather  than  attempt  to  dehver  ourselves 
b)'  any  means  not  agreeable  to  his  precise 
pleasure.  Neither  can  there  be  so  stupid  a 
reliance  upon  a  miracle,  as  that  God  should 
suffer  us  to  preserve  or  redeem  ourselves 
by  ill  and  crooked  arts,  and  contribute  his 
blessings  upon  such  a  preservation;  which 
would  be  more  miraculous,  than  what  seems 
to  them  most  wonderful.  There  cannot  be 
a  more  mischievous  position,  than  that  we 
should  be  always  doing,  always  endeavour- 
ing to  help  ourselves.  He  that  hath  lost  his 
way  in  a  dark  night,  and  all  the  marks  hy 
which  he  should  guide  himself,  and  know 
whether  he  be  in  the  way  or  not,  cannot 
do  =0  wisely  as  to  sit  still  till  the  morning;  es- 
pecially if  he  travel  upon  such  uneven  ground 
and  precipices,  that  the  least  mistake  in  foot- 
ing may  prove  fatal  to  him:  and  it  will  be 
the  same  in  our  other  journey;  if  we  are  be- 
nighted in  our  understandings,  and  so  no  path 
to  tread  in  but  where  thorns  and  briars  and 
Snakes  are  in  our  way  and  where  the  least 
deviation  from  the  right  track  will  lead  us 
into  labyrinths,  from  whence  we  cannot  be 
safely  disentangled,  it  will  become  us,  how 
bleak  and  stormy  soever  the  night  is,  how 
grievous  and  pressing  soever  our  adversity 


OF  PATIENCE  IN  ADVERSITY.  Ill 

is,  to*  have  patienca.tiU  the  light  appears, 
that  we  may  have  a  full  prospect  of  our  way, 
and  of  all  that  lies  in  our  way.  If  the  ma- 
lice and  power  of  enemies  oppress  us,  and 
drive  us  to  those  exigents,  that  there  appears 
to  us  no  expedient  to  avoid  utter  ruin,  but 
submitting  and  concurring  with  their  wicked- 
ness, we  ought  to  beheve  that  either  God 
will  convert  their  hearts,  or  find  some  other 
as  extraordinary  way  to  deliver  us;  and  if  he 
does  not,  that  then  our  ruin  is  necessary, 
and  that  he  will  make  it  more  happy  to  us 
than  our  deliverance  would  be.  We  have 
no  such  liberty  left  us  to  choose  one  evil, 
under  pretence  that  we  avoid  a  greater  by 
so  doing.  It  may  be  a  good  rule  in  matter 
of  damage  and  inconvenience  ;  but  that 
which  in  itself  is  simply  evil,  must  not  be 
consented  to  under  any  extenuation  or  ex- 
cuse; and  the  project  of  doing  good,  or  re- 
deeming the  ill  we  have  done,  by  such  con- 
cessions, is  more  vain,  more  unjustifiable. 
We  are  so  far  from  any  warrant  for  those 
undertakings,  that  we  have  an  infallible  text, 
"  That  we  are  not  to  do  evil  that  good  may 
come  of  it;"  we  ought  not  to  presume  that 
God  will  give  us  time  and  opportunity  to  do  it, 
and  then  the  intention  of  doing  well  will  be 
no  good  excuse  for  the  ill  we  have  actually 


112  LORD    clarendon's    E3SA7S. 

committed;  neither  have  we  reason  to  be 
confident  that  we  shall  have  the  will  to  do  it, 
if  we  have  the  opportunit}';  since  every 
transgression,  so  deliberated  and  resolved  on, 
leaves  the  mind  vitiated  and  less  inclined  to 
good;  and  there  is  such  a  bashfulness  natur- 
ally attends  on  gnilt,  that  we  have  not  after- 
wards the  same  alacrity  to  do  well,  and  grow 
ashamed  and  afraid  of  that  conversation,  with- 
out which  it  will  not  be  possible  for  us  to  do 
that  good.  It  will  be  said,  our  not  concur- 
ring in  this  particular  act,  may  ruin  us,  but 
not  hinder  the  act  from  being  done  ;  and 
therefore  that  it  is  too  vain  an  affectation  of 
our  ruin  to  oppose  that  so  fruitlessly  :  and 
this  consideration  and  objection,  I  fear,  hath 
prevailed  over  too  many  to  submit  to  that 
which  they  have  long  opposed,  as  not  agree- 
able to  their  understandings  and  conscience; 
that  they  have  done  their  parts,  opposed  it 
as  long  as  they  were  able;  that  it  shall  be 
done  whether  they  will  or  no;  and  that  it  is 
only  in  their  power  to  perish  with  what  they 
would  preserve,  but  not  to  preserve  it  by 
perishing;  and  therefore,  that  they  may  for 
their  own  preservation  join  in  the  doing  that, 
or  consenting  to  it,  which  will  be  done  in 
spite  of  any  resistance  they  can  make.  This 
is  said  in  the  business  of  the  cburcbL  it  i« 


OP  PATIENCE  IN  ADVERSITY.  113 

actually  oppressed;  the  government  of  it 
actually  and  remedilessly  altered;  nothing 
that  1  can  say  or  do  can  preserve  it;  and 
that  the  question  is  not,  whether  I  would  de- 
sire to  preserve  both  church  and  kingdom, 
but  whether,  when  there  can  be  one,  and  but 
one  preserved,  I  will  lose  that-  because  I 
cannot  keep  both.  But  these  arguments 
cannot  prevail  with  a  conscience  informed 
and  j^uided  aright.  If  my  religion  oblige  me 
to  do  my  duty  no  longer  than  conveniently 
1  might,  and  that  when  wants  and  necessities 
and  dangers  pressed  upon  me,  I  might  re- 
cede and  yield  to  what  1  believe  wicked  or 
unlawful,  I  had  no  more  to  do,  but  to  make 
that  necessity  and  danger  evident  to  the 
world  for  my  excuse.  But  no  union  and  con- 
sent in  wickedness  can  make  my  guilt  the  less; 
and  if  nothing  I  can  do  can  preserve  the 
church,  it  is  in  my  power  to  preserve  my 
own  innocence,  and  to  have  no  hand  in  its 
destruction;  and  I  ought  to  value  that  inno- 
cence above  all  the  conveniences  and  bene- 
fits my  submission  can  bring  to  me.  And  1 
must  confess,  I  want  logic  to  prove  to  myself, 
that  it  may  be  lawful  for  me  to  do  that  to  re- 
cover, or  redeem  my  fortune,  which  was  not 
lawful  for  me  to  do  to  preserve  it;  or  that  after 
I  have  borne  great  afflictions  and  calamities, ! 
vol..  V.  25 


114  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

may  conscientiously  consent  to  that,  which,  if 
I  could  have  done,  I  mieht  have  prevented 
all  those  calamities.  No  man  is  so  insignifi- 
cant as  that  he  can  be  sure  his  example  can 
do  no  hurt.  There  is  naturally  such  a  sub- 
mission of  the  understanding,  as  many  do  in 
truth  think  that  lawful  to  be  done  which  they 
see  another  do,  of  whose  judgment  and  in- 
tegrity they  have  a  great  opinion;  so  that  my 
example  may  work  upon  others  to  do  what 
no  other  temptation  or  suffering, could  in- 
duce them  to;  nay,  it  may  not  only  increase 
the  number  of  the  guilty,  but  confirm  those, 
who,  out  of  their  reverence  to  my  carriage 
and  constancy,  began  to  repent  the  ill  they 
bad  done;  and  whosoever  is  truly  repenting, 
thinks  at  the  same  time  of  repairing.  I 
doubt  many  men  in  these  ill  times  have  found 
themselves  unhappily  engaged  in  a  part- 
nership of  mischief,  before  they  appre- 
hended they  were  out  of  the  right  way,  by 
seriously  believing  what  this  man  said  (whose 
learning  and  knowledge'was  confessedly  emi- 
nent) to  be  law,  and  implicitly  concluding 
what  another  did  (whose  reputation  for  hon- 
esty and  wisdom  was  as  general)  Ao  be  just 
and  prudent  ;  and  1  pray  God,  the  faults  of 
those  misled  men  may  not  be  imputed  to 
the  other,  who  have  weight  enough  of  their 


OF  PATIENCE  IN  ADVERSITY.  115 

t)wn,  and  their  very  knowledge  and  honesty 
increase  their  damnation.  "  If  thou  faint  in 
the  day  of  adversity^  thy  strength  is  small," 
says  Solomon,  Prov.  xxiv.  lO.  "Si  desfiera- 
veris  lassus,"  says  the  vulgar  Latin;  if  being 
weary  or  faint,  thou  despair,  thy  strength  is 
small:  it  shows  thou  hast  done  well  out  of 
design,  and  in  expectation  of  prospering  by 
it;  and  being  disappointed,  thou  even  re- 
pentest  the  having  done  thy  duty:  for  thy 
strength  and  courage  being  grounded  only  on 
policy,  it  must  needs  be  small;  whereas,  if 
it  had  been  grounded  on  conscience  and  pi- 
ety towards  God,  thou  couldst  never  des- 
pair of  his  assistance  and  protection.  Tre- 
inellius  renders  that  text  more  severely, 
"  Si  remisse  te  geras  tempore  angustiae,  an- 
gusta  erit  virtus  tua;"  If  thou  art  less  vigo- 
rous in  the  time  of  trouble,  thy  virtue  is  not 
virtue,  but  a  narrow  slight  disposition  to 
good,  never  grown  into  a  habit.  "  In  the 
day  of  prosperity  be  joyful,  but  in  the  day 
of  adversity  consider,"  says  the  preacher. 
Tremellius  renders  it,  "Tempore  autem  ma- 
li  utere;"  Use  the  time  of  trouble,  employ 
it  so  that  thou  mayest  be  the  better  for  it, 
and  that  others  may  be  the  better  by  thy 
deportment;  It  was  observed  in  the  primi- 
tive time,  that  there  were  more  men  con- 


116  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

verted  to  Christianity  by  the  death  of  ererj 
martyr,  than  by  all  their  sermons  and  actions 
of  their  life;  and  thence  it  was   said,   "  San- 
guis martyruDi  est  semen  ecclesiae;"  Not  on- 
ly  that   the   confirmation   of  their  doctrine 
with  their  blood  persuaded  many  that  it  was'the 
truth  for  which  many  were  so  ready  to  pour 
out  their  blood,  but  that  their  demeanour  at 
their  death,  their  great  courage  and  patience, 
and  contempt  of  tortirres  and  pain,  made  ma- 
ny belieFC  that  there  was  a  satisfaction  and 
pleasure  and  joy  in   those   opinions,   which 
was  so  much  superior  and  above  the   agony 
and  pain  of  death,  that  a  mind  refreshed  with 
the  one,  preserve  the  body  from  the  sense  and 
feeling  of  the  other;  insomuch,  as  the  pro- 
secutors themselves,  who  could  not  be  mov- 
ed with  the  orations  and  sermons  and  dispu- 
tations of  the  prisoners,  were  converted  by 
beholding  them  at  the  stake.     And   we  oft- 
entimes  see   passionate    and    violent    men, 
>vhose  animosities  and  revenge  no  charity  or 
Christian  precepts  could  suppress  and  ex- 
tinguish, so  astonished  with  the   brave  and 
constant  carriage  of  their  adversaries  in  their 
afflictions,  which  have  been  unjustly  brought 
upon  them  by  the  other,  that  their  very  reve- 
rence to  their  sufferings  have  begot  a  xe- 
morse  in  them,  and  a  reparation  of  their 


OF  PATIENCE  IN  ADVERSITY.  117 

wrongs:  nay,  we  often  see  ill  men,  who  have 
justly  fallen  under  heavy  calamities,  behave 
themselves  so  well  under  them,  that  all  pre- 
judice hath  been  thereby  reconciled  toward 
them.  To  conclude,  wouldst  thou  convert 
thy  adversary  to  an  admiration  and  value  and 
affection  to  thee,  to  a  true  sense  of  the  wrong 
he  hath  done  thee,  there  is  no  such  way,  as 
by  letting  him  see  by  thy  firm  and  cheerful 
submitting  to  adversity,  that  thou  hast  a 
peace  about  thee  of  whirh  thou  canst  not  be 
robbed  by  him.  and  of  which  in  all  his  pow- 
er he  is  not  possessed.  If  his  heart  be  so  hard- 
ened and  his  conscience  seared,  that  thou 
canst  this  way  make  no  impression  on  him 
toward  his  conversion,  thou  shalt  how;5ver 
more  perplex  and  grieve  and  torment  his 
mind  with  envy  of  thy  virtue,  .than  he  can 
thine  with  all  his  insolence  and  oppression. 


X.  OF  CONTEMPT  OF  DEATH,  AND  THE  BEST 
PROVIDING  FOR  IT. 

Montpellier,  1600. 

*'0  Death,  how  bitter  is  the  remembrance 
of  thee  to  a  man,  that  liveth  at  rest  in  his 
possessions,  and  to  the  man  that  hath  nothing 
to  vex  him,  and  that  hath  prosperity   in  all 


118  LORD   clarendon's  BSSAYiS. 

things;  yea,  unto  him  that  is  yet  able  to  re- 
ceive meat:  O  Death,  acceptable  is  thy  sen- 
tence to  the  needy,  and  unto  him  whose 
strength  faileth,  that  is  now  in  the  last  age, 
and  is  vexed  with  all  things,  and  to  him  that 
despaireth,  and  hath  lost  patience;"  was  the 
reflection  of  the  son  of  Sirach,  upon  the  seve- 
ral affections  and  humours  and  contingencies 
in  the  life  of  man.  (xli.  1,  2.)  But  without 
doubt,  the  very  prosperous  man,  who  seems 
to  be  most  at  ease,  and  without  any  visible 
outward  vexation,  is  as  weary  very  frequent- 
ly of  life  (for  satiety  of  all  things  naturally 
produces  a  satiety  of  life  itself.)  as  the  most 
miserable  man,  whose  appetite  of  life  seems 
even  by  this  observation  to  continue  as  long 
as  his  appetite  of  meat;  for  as  long  as  he  is 
able  to  receive  meat,  the  remembrance  of 
death  is  bitter  to  him.  The  philosophers 
who  most  undervalued  life  and  raost  contemn- 
ed death,  and  thought  it  worthy  a  serious 
meditation  and  recollection,  "  Utrum  com- 
modins  sit,  vel  mortem  transire  ad  nos,  vel 
iios  ad  earn,"  whether  we  should  stay  till 
death  calls  upon  us,  or  we  call  upon  it;  and  be- 
lieved that  it  was  the  greatest  obligation  that 
Providence  had  laid  upon  mankind,  "  Quod 
unum  introitum  nobis  ad  vitam  dedit,  exitus 
multos;"  and  that  it  was  therefore  a  very 


OF  CONTEMPT  OF  DEATH.  119 

foolish  thing  to  complain  of  life,  when  they 
may  determine  it  when  they  will:  "Hoc  est 
unura,  cur  quod  de  vjta  non  possimus  queri; 
neminem  tenet;"  they  may  choose  whether 
they  will  live  or  no:  and  though  men  were 
obliged  to  make  their  lives  conformable  to 
the  good  examples  of  other  men,  in  the  man- 
ner of  their  death  they  were  only  to  please 
themselves,  "  Optima  est  quae  placet;"  yet 
there  was  a  great  difference  in  this  point  be- 
tween the  philosophers  themselves;  and  many 
of  them  held  it  very  unlawful,  and  a  great 
wickedness,  for  any  man  to  ofler  violence  t<f 
himself,  and  to  deprive  himself  of  his  own 
life,  and  "Exspectandum  esse  exitum  quem 
natiira  decrevit:"  and  surely,  excluding  all 
other  considerations,  there  seems  to  be  more 
fortitude  and  courage  in  daring  to  live  mise- 
rably, and  to  undergo  those  assaults  which 
that  life  is  liable  to,  than  in  preventing  and 
redeeming  himself  from  it  by  a  sudden  volun- 
tary death;  and  the  other  party,  which  most 
disliked  and  professed  against  this  restraint,  as 
the  contradiction  of  that  liberty  in  which  man 
was  born,  as  very  few  of  them  in  their  prac- 
tice parted  voluntarily  with  their  lives,  so  in 
their  discourses  the}'  kept  the  balance  equal; 
and  as  they  would  not  have  their  disciples 
too  much  in  love  with  life,  to  set  too  high  and 


120  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

too  great  a  value  upon  it,  so  they  would  by 
no  means  suffer  them  to  contemn,  much  less 
hate,  it;  "  Ne  nimis  amemus  vitam,  et  ne 
nimis  oderimus:"  they  had  so  many  cautions 
and  hesitations  and  distinctions  about  the 
abandoning  of  life,  that  a  man  may  see  that 
death  was  no  pleasant  prospect  to  tbetn. 
He  who  would  kill  himself  ought  to  do  it 
with  deliberation  and  decency,  "  Non  fu- 
gere  debet  e  vita,  sed  exire;''  and  above  all, 
that  "libido  moriendi"  was  abominable.  It 
must  not  be  a  dislike  of  life,  but  a  satiety  in 
it,  that  disposed  them  to  part  with  it.  'J'he 
truth  is,  though  they  could  have  no  farther 
reflections  in  this  disquisition,  than  were  sug- 
gested to  them  by  a  full  consideration  of  the 
law  of  nature,  and  the  obligations  thereof, 
and  could  not  consider  it  as  a  thing  impious 
in  itself  as  it  related  to  heaven  and  hell,  yet 
the  difference  that  was  in  their  view  was 
very  great  between  being  and  not  being, 
and  their  little  or  no  comprehension  what 
was  done  after  death  or  whether  any  thing 
succeeded  or  no,  that  many  of  them  from 
thence  valued  life  the  more,  and  some  of 
them  the  less. 

The  best  Christians  need  not  be  ashamed 
to  sharpen,  to  raise  their  own  contempla- 
tions and  devotions,  by  their  reflection  upon 


OF    CONTEMPT    OF    DEATH.  121 

the  discourse  of  th^  heathen  philosophers; 
but  they  may  be  ashamed  if  from  those  re- 
flections their  piety  be  not  indeed  both  in- 
structed and  exalted:  and  if  their  mere  rea- 
son could  raise  and  incite  them  to  so  great 
a  reverence  for  virtue,  and  so  solicitous  a 
pursuit  of  it,  we  may  well  blush  if  our  very 
reason,  so  much  informed  by  them,  be  not  at 
least  equal  to  theirs;  and  being  endowed  and 
strengthened  with  clear  notions  of  religion, 
it  doth  Bot  carry  us  higher  than  they  were 
able  to  mount,  and  to  a  perfection  they  were 
not  able  to  ascend  to.  We  any  learn  from 
them  to  undervalue  life  so  much,  as  not  af- 
fect it  above  the  innocence  of  living  or  liv- 
ing innocently;  we  may  so  far  learn  from 
them  to  contemn  death,  as  not  to  avoid  it 
with  the  guilt  or  infamy  of  living.  But  then 
the  consideration  of  heaven  and  hell,  the  re- 
ward and  punishment  which  will  inevitably 
attend  our  living  and  dying  well  or  ill,  will 
both  raise  and  fix  our  thoughts  of  life  and 
death  in  another  light  than  they  were  accus- 
tomed to;  neither  of  those  Lands  of  Promise 
having  been  contained  in  their  map  or  in 
any  degree  been  oxj^osed  to  their  prospect; 
and  nothing  but  tl  *•  vipv\  of  those  landmarks 
can  infuse  into  us  a  just  esteem  of  life,  and  a 
just  apprehension  of<  death.      Christianity 


122  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

then  doth  neither  oblige  up  not  to  love  life, 
or  not  to  fear  death,  but  to  love  life  so  little, 
that  we  may  fear  death  the  less.  Nothing 
can  so  well  prepare  us  for  it,  as  a  continual 
thinking  upon  it;  and  our  very  reason  me- 
thinks  should  keep  us  thinking  of  that  which 
we  know  must  come,  and  cannot  know  when; 
and  therefore  the  being  much  surprised 
with  the  approach  of  it  is  as  well  a  discredit 
to  our  reason  as  to  our  religion;  and  beyond 
an  humble  and  contented  expectation  of  it 
religion  requires  not  from  us:  it  being  im- 
possible for  any  man  who  is  bound  to'pay 
money  upon  demand,  not  to  think  of  having 
the  money  ready  against  it  is  demanded; 
nor  doth  any  man  resolve  to  make  a  jour- 
ney, without  providing  a  viatictim  for  that 
journey;  and  this  preparation  will  serve  our 
turn;  that  "  libido  moriendi"  is  no  injunc- 
tion of  Christianity;  and  we  know  in  the 
primitive  times,  that  as  great  pains  were 
taken  to  remove  those  fears  and  apprehen- 
sions out  of  the  hearts  of  Christians,  which 
terrified  them  out  of  their  religion,  by  pre- 
senting to  them  the  great  reward  and  joy 
and  pleasure  which  they  were  sure  to  be 
possessed  of  who  died  for  their  religion;  so 
there  was  no  less  to  restrain  them  from 
being  transported  with  such  a  zeal,  as  made 


OP    CONTEMPT   OF    DEATH.  123 

them,  out  of  the  aflectation  of  martyrdotn, 
to  call  for  it,  by  finding  out  and  reproaching 
the  judges,  and  declaring  their  faith  unask- 
ed, that  they  might  he  put  to  -death;  to  be 
contented  to  die  when  they  could  not  hon- 
estly avoid  it,  was  the  true  martyrdom. 
We  need  not  seek  death  out,  it  will  come 
in  its  due  time:  and  if  we  then  conform  de- 
cently to  its  summons,  we  have  done  what 
is  expected  from  us.  There  are  so  many 
commendable  and  #rorthy  ends  for  which 
we  may  desire  to  live,  that  we  may  very 
lawfully  desire  that  our  death  may  be  de- 
ferred. St.  Paul  himself,  who  had  been  so 
near  heaven  that  he  was  not  sure  that  he 
had  not  been  there,  was  put  to  a  stand,  and 
corrected  his  impatience  to  be  there  again, 
with  the  consideration  of  the  good  he  might 
do  by  living  and  continuing  in  this  world; 
"I  am  in  a  strait  betwixt  two,  having  a  de- 
sire to  depart  and  to  be  with  Christ,  which 
is  far  better:  nevertheless,  to  abide  in  the 
flesh  is  more  needful  for  you,"  Phil.  i.  23, 
24  He  knew  well  his  own  place  there 
which  was  reserved  for  him,  but  he  knew 
as  well  that  the  longer  his  journey  thither 
was  deferred,  he  should  have  the  more 
company  there;  and  this  made  his  choice  of 
life,  even  upon  the  comparison,  very  war- 


124  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

rantable.  Mea  may  very  piously  desire  to 
live,  to  comply  with  the  very  obligation  of 
nature  in  cherishing  their  wives  and  bring- 
ing up  their  children,  and  to  enjoy  the 
blessings  of  both:  and  that  he  may  contri- 
bute to  the  peace  and  happiness  and  pros- 
perity of  his  country,  he  may  heartily  pray 
not  to  die.  Length  of  days  is  a  particular 
blessing  God  vouchsafes  to  those  he  fivours 
most,  as  giving  therb  thereby  both  a  task 
and  opportunity  to  do  tb#more  good.  They 
who  are  most  weary  of  life,  and  yet  are 
most  imwillmg  to  die  are  such  who  have 
lived  to  no  purpose;  who  have  rather 
breathed  than  lived.  They  who  pre- 
tend to  the  apostle's  ecstasy,  and  to  desire  a 
dissolution  from  a  relisjious  nauseating  the 
folly  and  wickedness  of  this  world,  and  out 
of  a  devout  contctnplition  of  the  joys  of 
heaven,  administer  too  much  cause  of  doubt- 
ing, that  they  seem  to  triumph  over  nature 
more  than  they  have  cause,  and  that  they 
bad  rather  live  till  the  next  year  than  die  in 
this.  He  who  beli'-ves  the  world  not 
worthy  of  him,  may  in  trntU  be  thought  not 
worthy  of  the  world  If  men  are  not  wil- 
ling to  be  deprived  of  their  fortunes  and 
preferments  and  liberty,  which  are  but  the 
ordiiJarj  perquisites  of  life,  they  may  very 
jastitiably    oe  unwilling  to   be  deprived  of 


OP    CONTEMPT    OF    DEATH.  125 

life  itself,  upon  which  those  conveniences 
depend;    and    death    is    accompanied    with 
many  things,  which  we  are  not  obliged  soli- 
citously to  covet.     We  are  well  prepared 
for  it,   when  by  continual  thinking  upon  it 
we  are  so  prepared,  as  not  to  be  in  any  de- 
gree terrified  with  the  approach  of  it,  and  at 
the    resigning  our  life   into   his   hands   who 
gave  it ;  and  a  temper  beyond  this  is  rather 
to  be  imagined  than  attained,  by  any  of  those 
rules  of  understanding  which  accompany  a 
man  that  is  in  good  health  of  body  and  mind; 
and  the  sickness  and  infirmity  of  either  is 
more  like  to  amaze  and  corrupt  the  judg- 
ment, than  to  elevate  and  inspire  it  with 
any    rational,    transcendent,    and    practical 
speculations.     The  best  counsel  is  to  pre- 
pare the  mind  by  still  thinking  of  it,  "  lUis 
gravis  est,  quibus  est  repentina,  facile  earn 
sustinet  qui  semper  exspectat."     No  doubt 
it  must  exceedingly  disorder  all  their  facul- 
ties, who  cannot  endure  the  mention  of  it, 
and  do  sottishly  believe  (for  many  such  sots 
there  are)  that  they  shall  die  the  sooner,  if 
they  do    any  of  those    things  which   dying 
people  used  to  do,  and  which  nobody  ought 
to  defer  till  that  season:  and  there  cannot  be 
a  better  expedient   to  enable  men  to  pass 
that  time  with  courage  and  moderate  cheer- 


126  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

fulness,  than  so  to  have  dispatched  and  set- 
tled all  the  business  of  the  world  when  a 
man  is  in  health,  that  he  may  be  vacant, 
when  sickness  comes,  from  all  other  thoughts 
but  such  as  are  fit  to  be  the  companions  of 
death,  and  from  all  other  business  but  dying; 
which,  as  it  puts  an  end  in  a  moment  to  all 
that  is  mortal,  so  it  requires  the  operation 
of  more  than  is  mortal,  to  make  that  last 
moment  agreeable  and  happy. 


XI.    OF    FRIEXDSHIP. 

Montpellier,  1070. 

Friendship  must  have  some  extraordinary 
excellence  in  it,  when  the  great  philosopher 
as  well  as  best  orator  commends  it  to  us"  to 
prefer  before  all  things  in  the  world;  "Ut  ami- 
citiam  omnibus  rebus  humanis  anteponatis:" 
and  it  must  be  very  precious,  when  it  was 
the  circumirtance  that  made  David's  highest 
affliction  most  intolerable,  that  his  lover  and 
his  friend  was  put  from  him;  and  there  could 
be  no  aggravation  of  the  misery  he  endured, 
when  his  own  familiar  friend,  in  whom  he 
trusted,  was  turned  against  him.  This  he- 
roicnl  virtue  is  pretended  to  by  all,  but 
understood  or  practised  by  very  few,  which 


OF    FRIENDSHIP.  127 

needs  no  other  manifestation,  than  that  the 
choleric  person  thinks  it  an  obligation  upon 
his  friend  to  assist  him  in  a  murder;  the  un- 
thrifty and  licentious  person  expects  that 
friendship  should  oblige  him  who  pretends 
to  love  him,  to  waste  all  his  estate  in  riots 
and  excesses,  by  becoming  bound  for  him, 
and  so  liable  to  pay  those  debts  which  his 
pride  and  vanity  contract.  In  a  word,  there 
is  nothing  that  the  most  unreasonable  faction, 
or  the  most  unlawful  combination  and  con- 
spiracy, can  be  applied  to  comj-mss,  which  is 
not  thought  by  those  who  should  govern  the 
world  to  be  the  proper  and  necessary  office 
of  friendship;  and  that  the  laws  of  friendship 
'  are  extremely  violated  and  broken,  if  it  doth 
not  engage  in  the  performance  of  all  those 
offices,  how  unjust  and  unworthy  soever. 
And  thus  the  sacred  name  of  friendship,  and 
all  the  generous  duties  which  result  from  it, 
are  dishonoured  and  discredited,  as  if  they 
could  be  applied  to  the  propagation  of  vice, 
or  to  the  support  of  actions  inconsistent  with 
discretion  and  honesty.  The  son  of  Sirach 
had  no  such  imagination,  when  he  pronoun- 
ces, that  "a  faithful  friend  is  the  medicine, 
of  life,  and  they  that  fear  the  Lord  shall  find 
him:"  if  he  be  a  gift  that  God  bestows  upon 
them  who  fear  him,  thev  will  not  lose  both 


128  LORD  clarendon's  essavs. 

the  gift  and  the  giver  upon  vile  and  un- 
worthy employments.  Let  us  therefore, 
lest  this  precious  blessed  composition  be 
driven  out  of  the  world,  by  the  falsehood 
and  violence  of  those  who  pretend  to  adore 
it,  or  withdraw  itself  from  mankind,  because 
there  are  so  few  breasts  prepared  to  receive 
and  entertain  it,  in  the  first  place,  examine 
what  in  truth  friendship  is;  what  are  the 
obligations  of  it;  and  what  persons,  by  the 
excellence  or  corruption  of  their  natures, 
are  capable  or  incapable  of  being  possessed 
of  it,  and  receiving  the  effects  of  it.  It  may 
be,  it  is  easier  to  describe,  as  most  men 
have  done  who  have  writ  of  it,  than  to  de- 
fine friendship;  yet  I  know  not  why  it  may 
not  rightly  be  defined  to  be,  an  union  be- 
tween just  and  good  men,  in  their  joint  in- 
terest and  concernment,  and  for  the  advance- 
ment thereof:  for  it  hath  always  been  con- 
sented to,  that  there  can  be  no  friendship 
but  between  good  men,  because  friendship 
can  never  be  severed  from  justice;  and  con- 
sequently can  never  be  applied  to  corrupt 
ends.  It  is  the  first  law  of  friendship,  if  we 
believe  TuUy,  who  saw  as  far  into  it  as  any 
man  since,  "ut  neque  rogemus  res  turpes, 
nee  faciamus  rogati:"  which  puts  an  end  to 
all  their  endeavours,  who  would  draw  any 


OF  FRIENDSHIP.  129 

corrupted  liquor  from  so  pure  a  fountain. 
Friendship  neither  requires  nor  consents  to 
any  thing  that  is  not  pure  and  sincere;  they 
who  introduce  the  least  spot  or  crooked  line 
into  the  draught  and  portraiture  of  friendship, 
destroy  all  its  beauty,  and  render  it  so  de- 
formed, that  it  cannot  be  known.  Let  us  then 
examine,  from  the  integrity  of  this  definition 
and  institution,  what  the  obligations  of  it  are, 
and  what  friends  are  bound  under  that  seal 
to  do  or  suffer  for  one  another. 

I.  The  first  and  principal  obligation  is,  to 
assist  each  other  with  their  counsel  and  ad- 
vice; and  because  the  greatest  cement  that 
holds  and  keeps  them  together,  is  the  opi- 
nion they  have  of  eacn  other's  virfue,  they 
are  to  watch  as  carefully  as  is  possible  that 
neither  of  them  swerve  from  the  strict  rules 
thereof;  and  if  the  least  propensity  towards 
it  be  discovered,  to  apply  admonition  and 
counsel  and  reprehension  to  prevent  a  lapse. 
He  who  sees  his  friend  do  amiss,  commit  a  tres- 
pass upon  his  honour  or  upon  his  conscience, 
do  that  which  he  were  better  not  do,  or  do 
that  which  he  ought  not  to  do,  and  doth  not 
tell  him  of  it,  do  all  he  can  to  reform  him, 
hath  broken  the  laws  of  friendship;  since  there 
is  no  one  obligation  to  be  named  with  it;  so 
that  it  may  be  said  to  be  so  much  the  sole 

VOL.  V.  26 


130  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

use  of  friendship,  that  where  that  fails,  the 
performance  of  all  other  offices  is  to  no  pur- 
pose; and  it  may  be  observed,  that  few  men 
have  ever  fallen  into  any  signal  misfortune,  at 
least  not  been  lost  in  it,  who  have  ever  been 
possessed  of  a  true  friend,  except  it  be  in  a 
time  when  virtue  is  a  crime.  Counsel  and 
reprehension  was  a  duty  of  the  text  in  the 
Levitical  taw;  "  Thou  shalt  in  any  wise  re- 
buke thy  neighbour,  and  not  suffer  sin  upon 
him,"  (Lev.  xix.  17.)  and  Mr.  Selden  tell  us 
of  a  Rabbi,  that  thought  it  one  of  the  prin- 
cipal causes  of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem, 
because  they  had  left  ofi'  reproving  one  anoth- 
er, "Non  excisa  fuisset  lerosolima,  nisi  quo- 
niam  alter  alteriim  non  coarguebat;"  and 
there  is  no  doubt,  the  not  exercising  this  es- 
sential part  of  friendship  with  that  sincerity 
and  plainness  it  ought  to  be,  hath  been,  and 
is,  the  occasion  of  infinite  mischief,  and  hath 
upon  the  matter  annihilated  friendship,  and 
brought  it  under  the  reproach  of  being  a  pan- 
der, and  prostituted  to  all  the  vile  offices  of 
compliance  with  the  infirmities  and  vices  of 
the  person  it  regards.  |It  is  thought  to  be  a 
necessary  office  of  friendship,  to  conceal  the 
faults  of  a  friend,  and  make  them  be  thought 
much  less  than  they  are;  and  it  is  so:  every 
man  ought  to  be  very  tender  of  the  reputa- 


OP  FRIENDSHIP.  131 

tion  of  one  he  loves,  and  to  labour  that  he 
may  be  well  thought  of;  that  is  his  duty 
with  reference  to  others:  but  he  is  neither 
to  lessen  or  conceal  it  to  himself,  who  can 
best  provide  for  his  reputation,  by  giving  no 
cause  for  aspersion;  and  he,  who  in  such 
cases  gives  not  good  counsel  to  his  friend,  be- 
trays him.  I 

2.  The  second  office  of  friendship  is,  to 
assist  the  interest  and  pretence  of  his  friend 
with  the  utmost  power  he  hath,  and  with 
more  solicitude  than  if  it  ivere  his  own,  as 
in  truth  it  is;  but  then  TuUy's  rule  is  excel- 
lent, "Tantum  cuique  tribuendum  est,prinium 
quantum  ipse  efficere  possis,  deinde  quantum 
quern  diligas  atque  adjuves  possit  sustinere;" 
men  are  not  willing  to  have  any  limits  put  to 
their  desires,  but  think  their  friends  bound 
to  help  them  to  any  thing  they  think  them- 
selves fit  for.  But  friendship  justly  consi- 
ders what  in  truth  .they  are,  not  what  they 
think  themselves  fit  for;  quantum  possunt 
sustinere :  friendship  may  be  'deceived,  and 
overvalue  the  strength  and  capacity  of  his 
friend,  think  that  he  can  sustain  more  than 
indeed  his  parts  are  equal  to;  but  friendship 
is  not  so  blind,  as  not  to  discern  a  total  un- 
fitness, an  absolute  incapacity,  and  can  ne- 
ver be  engaged  to  promote  such  a  subject. 
It  can  never  prefer  a  man  to  be  a  judge, 


132  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

who  knows  nothing  of  the  law;  nor  to  be  a 
general,  who  was  never  a  soldier.     Promo- 
tions, in  which  the  public    are  concerned, 
must  not  be  assigned  by  the  excess  of  pri- 
vate affections;  which,  though  possibly  they 
may  choose  the  less  fit,  must  never  be  so 
seduced  as  not  to  be  sure  there  is  a   com- 
petent fitness  in  the  person  they  make  choice 
of:  otherwise  friendship,  that  is  compound- 
ed of  justice,  would  be  unjust  to  the  public, 
out  of  private  kindness    towards  particular 
persons;  which  is  the  highrst  injustice  ima- 
ginable, of  which  friendship  is  not  capable. 
3.   The  third  duty  of  friendship  is  entire 
confidence     and     communication,      without 
which    faithful    counsel,  the  just  tribute  of 
friendship  can  never  be   given;  and  there- 
fore reservation  in  friendship    is  like  con- 
cealment in  confession,  which  makes  the  ab- 
solution void,  as  the  other  doth  the  counsel 
of  no  effect.     Seneca's  advice  is  excellent, 
"Diu  cogita,  an  tibi  in  aniicitiam  aliquis  reci- 
piendus  sit:"  It  is  want  of  this  deliberation, 
this  long  thinking  whether  such  a  man  be 
capable  of  friendship,  and  whether  thou  thy- 
self art  fit  for  it,  that  brings  so  much  scandal 
upon  it,  makes  friendships  of  a  day,  or  ra- 
ther miscalls  every  short  acquaintance,  any 
light  conversation,  by  the  title  of  friendship; 


OP    FRIENDSHIP.  133 

of  which  rery  many  of  those  are  incapable, 
wtio  are  fit  enough  for  acquaintance  and  com- 
mendable enough  in  conversation.  When 
thou  hast  considered  this  well,  which  thou 
canst  do  without  considering  it  long;  cum 
ptacucrit  fieri,  if  thou  resolvest  that  he  is  fit 
for  thy  friendship,  toio  ilium  pectore  admitte, 
receive  him  into  thy  bosom;  let  him  be  pos- 
sessed of  all  thy  purposes,  all  thy  thoughts; 
to  conceal  any  thing  from  him  now  is  an  af- 
front, and  a  disavowing  him  for  thy  friend. 
It  is  the  reason  the  Roriaan  church  gives,  why 
they  define  the  reservation  and  concealment 
of  any  sin,  or  circumstance  of  it,  in  confes- 
sion of  it,  to  be  sacrilege,  because  it  defrauds 
God  of  somewhat  that  was  due  to  him  from 
the  penitent;  and  by  the  same  reason, 
the  not  entirely  communicating  all  thou 
knowest  and  all  thou  thinkest,  is  a  lay  sacri- 
lege, a  retaining  somewhat  that  is  his  due 
by  the  dedication  of  friendship:  and  without 
this  sincere  communication,  the  principal 
use  of  friendship  is  abated  and  withheld,  and 
the  true  virtue  thereof  undiscovered,  and 
the  comfort  that  attends  it. 

The  fourth  obligation  in  friendship  is  con- 
stancy, and  continuing  firm  to  the  laws  and 
obligations  of  it.  Friendship  is  so  much 
more  a  sacrament  than  marriage  is,  that  in 


134  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAY8- 

many  cases  a  friend  is  more  to  be  trusted 
and  relied  upon  than  the  wife  of  his  bosom; 
and  so  is  not  to  be  cast  off  or  dismissed,  but 
upon  the  most  discovered  and  notorious 
transgressions;  and  even  then  there  will  re- 
main some  marks,  yea  and  obligations,  which 
can  never  be  razed  out  or  cancelled.  Sci- 
pio  had  never  patience  so  much  as  to  hear 
that  proposition  of  Bias  the  philosopher  pro- 
nounced, "  Ita  amare  oportere,  ut  aliquando 
esset  osurus,"  that  a  man  was  to  love  his 
friend  in  such  a  manner,  that  he  might  hate 
him  likewise  if  there  were  an  occasion;  which 
indeed  was  a  barbarous  advice  of  a  rude  Sto- 
ic, whose  profession  was  not  to  appear  like 
other  men.  It  is  possible  that  a  friend  may 
fall  so  far  from  the  laws  of  virtue  and  justice, 
and  commit  such  crimes  and  oflences,  that, 
like  violating  the  integrity  of  the  marriage- 
bed,  may  cause  a  separation  even  to  the  dis- 
solution'of  friendship;  but  it  is  not  possible 
for  a  friend  to  think  he  will  do  so  till  he  hath 
done  it  notoriously:  and  even  after  that  time, 
though  the  communication  which  constituted 
the  friendship  Ve  interrupted,  there  remains 
still  some  inclination;  and  he  thinks  it  just 
to  pay  such  a  penalty  for  the  error  and  un- 
skilfulness  of  his  election,  that  he  hath  still 
•  kindness  and  pity,  and  is  never  heard  to  load 


OF    FRIENDSHIP.  13o 

his  divorced  friend  with  reproaches  and  se- 
vere censures;  it  is  grief  enough  not  to  speak 
of  it  at  all,  but  he  can  never  be  provoked  to 
speak  bitterly  of  him;  the  grateful  memory 
of  the  past  intercourse,  and  of  some  virtue 
that  was  in  the  object,  will  preserve  him 
from  that  indecency.  There  cannot  be  a 
greater  manifestation  how  falsely  or  weakly 
the  common  friendships  of  the  age  are  found- 
ed and  entered  into,  than  by  every  day's  ob- 
servation of  men,  who  profess  friendship  this 
day  to  those  against  whom  they  declare  to- 
morrow the  njost  mortal  and  implacable  ha- 
tred and  malice;  and  blush  not  the  next  day 
to  depress  the  same  man  with  all  the  imagi- 
nable marks  of  infamy,  whom  the  day  before 
they  extolled  with  all  the  commendations 
and  praises  which  humanity  is  capable  of: 
whereas,  in  truth,  natural  modesty  should 
restrain  men,  who  have  been  given  to  speak 
too  well  of  some  men,  from  speaking  at  all 
ill  of  the  same  persons,  that  their  former  ex- 
cess may  be  thought  to  proceed  from  their 
abundant  charity,  not  from  the  defect  of 
their  judgment.  Solomon  thought  friend- 
ship so  sacred  a  tie,  that  nothing  but  the 
discovery  of  secrets,  which  is  adultery  in 
marriage,  could  separate  from  it;  and  sure- 
ly a  greater    violation  of  friendship  cannot 


136  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

be  than  such  a  discovery,  and  scarce  any  oth- 
er guilt  towards  the  person  of  a  friend  can 
be  equal  to  it.  But  friendship  may  be  bro- 
ken and  dissolved  by  faults  committed  against 
other  persons,  though  of  no  immediate  rela- 
tion to  the  friend  himself.  When  men  cease 
to  be  of  the  same  virtue  they  were,  or  pro- 
fessed and  seemed  to  be  of,  when  that  con- 
junction was  entered  into:  if  they  cease  to 
be  just  and  pious,  and  fall  into  the  practice 
of  some  notorious  and  scandalous  vice; 
friendship  is  of  so  delicate  a  temper,  that  she 
thinks  her  own  beauty  impaired  by  those 
spots,  and  herself  abandoned  by  that  foul 
practice.  If  the  avowing  a  friendship  for  a 
corrupt  and  wicked  person  be  so  scandalous, 
that  the  best  men  cannot  bear  the  reproach 
of  it,  such  a  departure  from  probity  and  a 
good  name  will  excuse  and  justify  the  others 
withdrawing  from  that  virtuous  relation,  so 
much  already  abandoned  by  the  impiety  of 
the  transgressor;  yet  there  will  remain  such 
a  compassion  towards  the  person,  which  is 
very  consistent  with  the  detestation  of  the 
vice,  that  he  shall  receive  all  the  offices  of 
charity,  kindness,  and  generosity,  which 
cannot  but  still  spring  from  some  root  or 
branch  of  the  withered  and  decayed  former 
friendship,  that  can  never  be  totally  extin- 


OP    FRIENDSHIP.  /  '137 

guished,  though  the  lustre  be  faded  and  the 
vigour  lost. 

Since,  then,  the  temper  and  composition 
of  friendship  itself  is  so  delicate  and  spiritual, 
that  it  admits  no  mere  carnal  ingredients, 
and  tiie  obligations  of  it  are  so  inseparable 
and  indispensable,  we  cannot  but  discern 
how  man^  classes  of  men  are  utterly  unca- 
pable  of  being  admitted  into  that  relation; 
or  rather,  how  very  few  are  worthy  to  be 
received  into  the  retinue  of  friendship, 
which  all  the  world  lays  a  claim  to.  The 
proud  man  can  very  hardly  act  any  part  in 
friendship,  since  he  reckons  none  to  be  bi? 
friends  but  those  who  admire  him;  and 
thinks  very  few  wise  enough  to  administer 
advice  and  counsel  to  him,  nor  will  admit, 
any  man  to  have  the  authority  of  reprehen- 
sion, without  which  friendship  cannot  sub- 
sist. The  choleric,  angry,  impatient  man 
can  be  very  little  delighted  with  it,  since  he 
abhors  nothing  so  much  as  contradiction; 
and  friendship  exercises  no  liberty  more 
than  that  of  contradicting,  finding  fault  with 
any  thing  that  is  amiss,  and  is  as  obstinate  in 
controuling  as  the  most  stubborn  nature  can 
be  in  transgressing.  The  licentious  and 
lustful  person  is  so  transported  with  those 
passions  which  he  calls  love,  that  he  abhors 


138  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

nothing  so  much  as  the  name  of  friendship; 
which  he  knows  would  he  always  throwing 
water  upon  that  fire  which  he  wishes  should 
still  inflame  him,  and  endeavouring  to  ex- 
tinguish all  those  appetites,  the  satisfying 
whereof  gives  him  all  the  pleasure  he  enjoys 
in  life.  And,  lastly,  to  the  covetous,  unjust, 
and  ambitious  person,  nothing  can  be  so  un- 
easy, so  grievous,  and  so  odious,  as  friend- 
ship; which  affronts  all  their  desires  and 
pursuits  with  rude  discourses  of  the  wealth 
of  contentedness,  of  the  fame  of  integrity, 
and  of  the  state  and  glory  of  humility,  and 
would  persuade  them  to  make  themselves 
happy,  by  renotmcing  all  those  things  which 
they  care  for.  There  being  then  such  an 
incongruity  and  unaptness  in  these  several 
classes  of  men,  which  comprehend  so  large 
a  part  of  mankind,  to  receive  and  give  enter- 
tainment to  this  transcendent  virtue,  which 
is  the  ornament  of  life,  that  friendship  seems 
to  be  reserved  only  for  those,  who,  by 
being  already  persons  of  that  rare  perfec- 
tion and  rectitude,  can  receive  least  benefit 
by  it,  and  so  is  an  impertinent  cordial  pre- 
pared only  for  their  use  who  enjoy  excel- 
lent health,  and  is  not  to  be  applied  to  the 
weak,  sick,  or  indisposed,  for  their  recove- 
ry or  preservation;  there  is  no  doubt  there 


OP    FRIENDSHIP.  139 

must  be  at  least  a  disposition  to  virtae  in  all 
who  would  entertain,  or  be  entertained  in 
friendship:  the  several  vices  mentioned  be- 
fore, exalted  into  habits,  have  more  poison 
in  them,  than  the  antidote  of  friendship  can 
expel  or  delights  to  contend  with;  there 
must  be  some  declension  of  their  vigour, 
before  they  will  permit  the  patient  the  lei- 
sure to  walk  in  the  gentle  and  temperate 
air  of  any  sober  and  serious  conversation. 
But  as  there  is  no  such  perfection  in  nature, 
nor  any  such  accomplishment  of  manners, 
no  such  quality  and  degree  of  life  to  which 
friendship  is  not  exceedingly  useful,  and 
which  doth  not  receive  infinite  benefit  and 
advantage  by  it  and  from  it;  (and  therefore 
if  kings  and  princes  are  incapable  of  it,  by 
the  sublime  inequality  of  their  persons  with 
men  of  a  lower  rank,  for  friendship  does 
suppose  some  kind  of  equality,  it  is  such  an 
allay  to  their  transcendent  happiness,  that 
they  shall  do  well,  by  art  and  condescension, 
to  make  themselves  fit  for  that  which  nature 
hath  not  made  them;)  so  it  may  by  degrees 
and  faint  approaches  be  entertained  by,  and 
have  operation  upon,  even  those  depraved 
affections  and  tempers,  which  seem  most 
averse  from,  and  incapable  of  the  effects  and 
offices  of  it. 


t40  LORD  clarendon's  ESSAYS. 

Friendship  is  compounded  of  all  those 
soft  ingredients  which  can  insinuate  them- 
selves and  slide  ins^ensibly  into  the  nature 
and  temper  of  men  of  the  most  dilferent  con- 
stitutions, as  well  as  of  those  strong  and  ac- 
tive spirits  which  cnn  make  their  way  into 
perverse  and  obstinate  dispositions;  and  be- 
cause discretion  is  always  predominant  in  it, 
it  works  and  prevails  least  upon  fools.  Wick- 
ed men  are  often  reformed  by  it,  weak  men 
seldom.  It  doth  not  fly  in  the  face  of  the 
proud  man,  nor  endeavour  to  jostle  him  out 
of  his  way  with  unseasonable  reprehensions; 
but  watches  tit  occasions  to  present  his  own 
vices  and  infirmities  in  the  person?  of  other 
men,  and  makes  them  appear  ridiculous, 
that  he  may  fall  out  with  them  in  himself. 
It  provokes  not  the  angry  man  by  peremp- 
tory contradictions;  he  understands  the  na- 
ture of  the  passion,  as  well  as  of  the  person, 
too  well,  to  endeavour  to  suppress  or  divert 
it  with  discourses  when  it  is  in  fury,  but 
even  complies  and  provokes  it  that  he  may 
extinguish  it:  "Simulabit  iraro,  ut  tanquam 
adjutor  et  doloris  comes,  plus  auctoritatis  in 
coni'iliis  habeat;"  a  friend  will  pretend  to 
have  a  greater  sense  of  the  indignity,  that 
he  may  be  of  counsel  in  the  revenge,  and  so 
will  defer  it  till  it  be  too  late  to  execute  it, 


,     OF    FRIENDSHIP.  141 

and  till  the  passion  is  burned  out  with  its 
own  fire.  Friendship  will  not  assault  the 
lustful  person  with  the  commendation  of 
chastity;  and  will  rather  discourse  of  the 
diseases  and  contempt  that  will  accompany 
him,  than  of  the  damnation  that  will  attend 
him;  it  applies  caution  and  lenitives  to  vice 
that  is  in  rage  and  flagrant,  the  fever  of 
which  must  be  in  remission  before  the  sove- 
reign remedies  of  conscience  are  to  be  admin- 
istered. There  is  a  weakness  that  contri- 
butes to  health;  and  counsel  must  be  as 
warily  increased  as  diet,  whilst  there  are 
dregs  enough  left  of  the  disease  to  spoil  the 
operation  and  digestion.  Friendship  hath 
the  skill  and  observation  of  the  best  physi- 
cian, the  diligence  and  vigilance  of  the  best 
nurse,  and  the  tenderness  and  patience  of  the 
best  mother.  Lastly,  it  will  not  endeavour 
to  reform  those  who  are  covetous,  unjust, 
or  ambitiaus,  by  persuading  them  that  po- 
verty is  to  be  preferred  before  plenty;  that 
it  is  better  to  be  oppressed  than  to  oppress; 
and  that  contempt  is  more  to  be  affected 
than  honour.  Friendship  is  neither  oblig- 
ed, nor  obliges  itself,  to  such  problems;  but 
leaves  it  to  those  who  satisfy  themselves  in 
speaking  what  they  think  true,  without  car- 
ing whether  it  does  good,  or  whether  anj 


142  LORD  clarendon's  Essays. 

body  believes  them  or  no.  Friendship  may 
lose  its  labour,  but  it  is  very  solicitous  that 
it  may  not;  and  therefore  applies  such  coun- 
sels as  it  may  reasonably  presume  will  not 
be  cast  up,  though  it  may  not  carry  away  all 
the  humour  it  is  applied  to.  It  will  tell  the 
covetous  man,  that  he  may  grow  very  rich, 
and  yet  spend  part  of  his  wealth  as  he  gathers 
it,  generously  upon  himself,  and  charitably 
upon  others;  it  will  put  him  in  mind  of  Solo- 
mon's observation,  that  "There  is  that  scat- 
tereth,  and  yet  increaseth;  and  there  is  that 
withholdeth  more  than  is  meet,  but  it  tea- 
deth  to  poverty,"  Prov.  xi.  24.  And  how 
far  the  apprehension  of  that  which  he  most 
endeavours  to  avoid,  may  work  upon  him, 
depends  much  upon  the  force  and  power  of 
friendship;  and  it  hath  wrought  a  great  cure, 
if  it  hath  prevailed  with  him  to  make  his 
money  his  servant,  and  to  do  the  business 
of  a  servant,  instead  of  being  a  slave  to  his 
money.  It  is  not  to  be  expected,  that  all 
the  precepts  and  all  the  example  of  the 
strongest  friendship  shall  have  force  enough 
to  drive  away  all  the  malignity  which  pos- 
sesses these  several  distempered  persons; 
it  will  be  very  much,  and  a  sufficient  evi- 
dence of  the  divine  influence  of  friendship, 
if  it  prevails  with  the  proud  man  to  be  less 


OF    FRIENDSHIP.  143 

proud,  and  to  endure  to  be  in  that  com- 
pfiny  that  doth  not  flatter  him;  if  it  makes 
the  angry  man  so  much  ashamed,  as  to  blush 
for  his  impertinent  rage,  and  though  he  can- 
not suppress  it,  yet  to  excuse  it;  if  he  brings 
the  lustful  person  to  abhor  unclean  discour- 
ses, to  live  coMte  if  not  caste,  and  to  endea- 
vour to  conceal  his  sin,  though  it  cannot 
suppress  it;  and  if  it  can  persuade  the  cove- 
tous man  to  be  les?  sordid  towards  himself, 
though  not  less  avaricious  towards  others, 
it  hath  done  great  offices,  and  sown  seed  that 
may  grow  up  to  the  destruction  of  many  of 
the  weeds  which  are  left.  And  it  hath  been 
often  seen,  that  many  of  these  vices  have  been 
wonderfully  blasted,  and  even  withered 
away,  by  the  discreet  castigation  of  a  friend; 
and  rarely  known  that  they  have  continued 
long  in  their  full  rage  and  vigour,  when  they 
have  been  set  upon  or  undermined  by  skil- 
ful friendship. 

But  1  cannot  here  avoid  being  told,  that 
here  is  an  excellent  cordial  provided  for 
people  in  the  plague,  to  whom  nobody  hath 
the  charity  to  administer  it;  that  since  friend- 
ship can  only  be  between  good  men,  the 
several  ill  qualities  which  possess  those  per- 
sons have  made  them  incapable  of  it,  and  so 
cannot  receive  those  ofliC'es  from  it;  if  the 


144  LORD    clarendon's   ESSAlfS.  . 

j»roud  and  the  angry,  the  lustful,  revenge- 
ful, and  ambitious  person,  be  not  capj^ble 
of  friendship,  they  can  never  receive  bene- 
fit by  it.  It  is  very  true,  there  cannot  be  a 
perfect  entire  friendship  with  men  of  those 
depraved  affections,  v/ho  cannot  perform 
the  functions  of  it;  there  cannot  be  that.con- 
fidence,  communication,  and  mutual  concern- 
ment betvveen  such  persons,  and  those  that 
are  endowed  with  that  virtue  and  justice 
which  is  the  foundation  of  friend!-l)ip:  but 
men  may  receive  the  benefit  and  offices  of 
friendship  who  are  neither  worthy  nor  ca- 
pable of  entering  into  the  society  and  obli- 
gation of  it,  or  to  return  those  offices  they 
receive.  It  hath  so  much  justice  in  it,  that 
it  is  solicitous  to  relieve  any  body  that  is 
oppressed,  though  it  hath  proceeded  from 
his  own  default;  and  it  hath  so  much  charity 
in  it,  that  it  is  ready  to  give  to  whoever 
wants,  though  it  could  choose  a  better  ob- 
ject. It  is  possible  that  a  fast  friendship 
with  a  worthy  father  may  in  such  a  degree 
descend  to  an  unworthy  son,  that  it  may  ex- 
tend itself  in  all  the  offices  towards  him 
which  friendship  uses  to  produce;  though 
he  can  make  no  proportionable  return,  nor, 
it  may  be,  cares  noi  for  that  exercise  of  it. 
It  is  not  impossible  but  that  we  may  have 


OF    FRIENDSHIP.  149t 

contracted  friendship  with  men  who  thert 
concealed  their  secret  vices,  which  would, 
if  discovered,  have  obstructed  the  con- 
tract; or  they  may  afterwards  fall  into  those 
vices, _  which  cannot  but  dissolve  it,  inter- 
rupt that  communication  and  confidence 
which  is  the  soul  of  it:  yet  in  neither  of 
those  cases,  we  must  not  retire  to  such  a 
distance,  as  not  to  have  the  former  obli- 
gation in  our  view;  we  must  so  far  sepa- 
rate as  to  appear  at  the  farthest  distance 
from  their  corruptions,  but  we  must  re- 
tain still  a  tender  compassion  for  their 
persons,  and  still  administer  to  them  all 
the  comfort  and  all  the  counsel  that  may 
restore  them  again  to  an  entire  capacity 
of  our  friendship;  and  if  that  cannot  be, 
to  prosecute  them  still  with  some  effects 
of  it,  inflict  upon  ourselves,  for  our  own 
oversight  and  want  of  prudence,  more  pa- 
tience and  more  application  than  we  are 
bound  to  use  towards  strangers;  in  a  word, 
friendship  is  so  diffusive,  that  it  will  insi- 
nuate its  effects  to  the  benefit  of  any  who 
are  in  any  degree  capable  of  receiving  bene- 
fit from  it. 

VOL.  V.  27 


^6  LORD    clarendon's  ESSAYS. 


Xll.      OP  COUNSEL  AND  CONVERSATION. 
Montpelliar,  1670. 

Counsel  and  conversation  is  a  second  edu- 
catiou,  that  improves  all  the  virtue  and  cor- 
rects all  the  vice  of  the  former,  and  of  na- 
ture itself;  and  whosoever  hath  the  blessing 
to  attain  this  benefit,  and  understands  the 
advantage  of  it,  will  be  superior  to  all  the 
difficulties  of  this  life,  and  cannot  miss  his 
way  to  the  next.  Which  is  the  more  easy 
to  be  believed,  by  the  contrary  prospect,  by 
the  evidence  ofthe  infinite  mischief  which  the 
corrupt  and  evil  conversation  and  the  com- 
pany of  wicked  men  produces  in  the  world, 
to  the  making  impressions  upon  those  who 
are  not  naturally  ill  inclined,  but  by  degrees 
wrought  upon,  first  to  laugh  at  chastity,  re- 
ligion, and  virtue,  and  all  virtuous  men,  and 
then  to  hate  and  contemn  them;  so  that  it  is 
a  miracle  of  some  magnitude  for  any  one  to 
have  much  conversation  with  such  people, 
to  be  often  in  that  company,  and  afterwards 
heartily  to  forsake  them;  and  he  ought  to 
look  upon  himself  as  a  brand  pulled  and 
snatched  out  of  the  fire  by  the  omnipotent 
arm  of  God  himself.  I  know  not  how  it 
comes  to  pass,  but  notorious  it  is,  that  men 


OF    COUNSEL    AND    CONVERSATION.       147 

ot'  depraved  principles  and  practice  are 
much  more  active  and  solicitous  to  make 
proselytes,  and  to  corrupt  others,  than  pious 
and  wise  men  are  to  reduce  and  convert;  as 
ii'the  devil's  talent  were  more  operative  and 
productive,  than  that  which  God  entrusts  in 
the  hands  of  his  children,  which  seems  to 
be  wrapped  up  in  a  napkin  without  being 
employed:  "Frowardness  is  ia  his  heart,  he 
devisetli  mischief  continually,  he  soweth 
discord,"  says  Solomon  of  his  wicked  man, 
(Prov-  X.  14.)  "Pravo  corde  architectatur 
malum,"  as  one  translation  rentiers  ft;  he 
doth  not  do  mischief  by  chance,  or  negli- 
gently, but  deliberates  how  he  may  do  it 
with  more  success;  he  builds  it  commodious- 
ly  and  speciously  to  the  eye,  that  it  may  in- 
vite men  to  inhabit  it;  there  is  no  industry 
nor  art  wanting  to  make  it  prosper,  and 
to  yield  a  good  harvest:  whereas  good 
men  are  content  to  enjoy  the  peace  and 
tranquillity  of  their  own  consciences;  are 
very  strict  in  all  they  say  or  do;  and  are 
severe  examiners  of  their  own  actions, 
that  they  may  be  correspondent  to  their 
professions,  and  take  themselves  to  be 
without  any  obligation  to  be  inquisitive 
into  the  actions  of  other  men.  Which, 
though  it  be   a   good   temper    to    restrain 


148  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

that  unlawful  curiosity  and  censoriousness, 
which  would  dispose  us  to  be  remiss  to- 
wards ourselves,  and  severe  ceiisurers  of 
the  actions  of  other  men,  is  far  from 
the  communicative  duty  which  we  owe 
to  our  brethren  in  an  open  and  friendly 
conversation.  "When  tliou  art  convert- 
ed, strengthen  thy  brethren,'"  was  an  in- 
junction of  our  Saviour  himself  to  St.  Peter 
(Luke  xxii  28.)  God  bestows  conversion 
and  any  other  perfections  upon  us,  that  we 
may  convert  and  mend  other  men:  charity 
is  diffusive,  and  cares  not  what  it  spends,  so 
it  enriches  others.  There  are  two  very 
erroneous  opinions,  which  hinder  and  ob- 
struct those  offices  which  should  flow  from 
the  perfections  of  all  men  towards  others: 
the  first,  that  it  is  the  office  of  the  minis- 
ters and  preachers  to  teach  all  men  their 
duty  to  God,  and  to  instruct  them  in  the 
ways  of  a  virtuous  and  innocent  conversa- 
tion; the  second,  that  men  are  generally 
little  the  better  for  advice,  and  care  not  to 
receive  it,  except  from  persons  who  have 
some  authority  over  them.  For  the  first, 
the  preachers  need  all  the  help  other  men 
can  give  them,  towards  the  reformmg  of 
men's  manners,  without  which  they  will  be 
iable  to  contribute  but  very  little  to  their 


OF    COUNSEL    AND    CONVERSATION.       149 

faith;  and  the  chief  reason  that  their  faith 
is  not  better,  is,  because  their  manners  are 
so  bad,  which  the  preachers  can  very  hardh' 
be  informed  of,  nor  easily  take  notice  of 
when  they  are  informed:  the  second  pro- 
ceeds from  too  ill  an  opinion  of  mankind, 
which  is  much  more  tractable  than  it  is 
thought  to  be,  and  hath  an  inward  reve- 
rence for  that  virtue  it  doth  not  practise; 
and  there  is  too  much  reason  to  believe, 
that  vice  flourishes  more  by  the  negligence 
of  those  who  are  enemies  to  it,  than  the 
cherishing  it  receives  by  those  who  prac- 
tise it;  and  if  the  others  laboured  so  much 
as  they  ought  to  do  to  prevent  the  growth 
of  it,  to  nip  it  in  the  bud  before  it  be 
grown  impudent,  and  plucking  it  up  by  the 
roots  when  it  is  grown  so,  by  severe  and 
sharp  reprehension,  the  vigour  of  it  would 
quickly  decay;  and  nothing  is  so  frequent 
as  cures  of  this  kind  by  honest  conversa- 
tion, which  insinuates  itself  into  the  minds  of 
men  insensibly,  and  by  degrees  gets  autho- 
rity, and  even  a  jurisdiction,  over  the 
hearts  of  the  worst  men:  the  hearing  the 
ordinary  discourses  of  sober  and  discreet 
men,  the  very  being  where  they  are,  and 
looking  upon  them,  works  great  effects; 
*^Est  aliquid,  quod  ex  magno  viro,  vel  tacen- 


160  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

te,   proficias;"  the  very  aspect  of  a  vene- 
rable   person,    though     he    says     nothing, 
leaves  an  iuipression  upon  the  mind  of  any 
man  who  is  not  utterly  abandoned  to  vice; 
and  men  of  loose    principles  find    another 
kind    of  spirit    of  mirth,    and  it    may    be 
another  kind  of  sharpness  of  wit,  in   inno- 
cent and  virtuous    conversation,    that    may 
have   some    condescension    to    make   itself 
delighted  in,  and  thereupon  care    less    for 
the  company  they    have    kept,    and    more 
for  that  they   are   fallen  into.     And  it  is  a 
wonderful  degree  of  recovery;  when  men 
have  these  recollections,  they  will  quickly 
attain  to  the  rest;  he  that  hath  redeemed 
himself  out  of  ill   company,  or  from   taking 
delight  in  it,  is  far  advanced  towards  a  per- 
fect reformation.     It  was   a   very   important 
circumspection  that  Epicurus  prescribed  to 
his  disciple,  to  be  more  careful  "cum  quibus 
edas  aut  bibis,  quam  quid  edas  aut  bibis;"  no 
diet  can  be  so  mischievous  as  the  company 
in  which  it  is  taken.     And  if  the  first  cor- 
ruption be  not  sucked    in    from  the  domes- 
tic manners,  a  little  providence  might   se- 
cure men    in  their    first  entrance  into  the 
world;  at   le;ist,  if  parents    took    as    much 
care  to  provide  for   their   children's    con- 
versation, as  they  do  for  their  clothes,  and 


OF    COUNSEL    AND    CONVERSATION.       151 

to  procure  a  good  friend  for  them  as  a  good 
tailor. 

It  13  not  looked  upon  as  the  business  of 
conversation  to  mend  each  other,  the  fair- 
ness of  it  rather  consists  in  not  offending; 
the  propagating  part  is  not  enongh  under- 
stood; if  it  were,  men  would  take  more 
joy,  and  feel  a  greater  inward  content,  in 
making  men  good  and  pious  and  wise,  than 
in  any  other  kind  of  generation:  which 
are  but  the  vulgar  acts  of  nature;  but  the 
mending  and  exalting  the  soul  is  so  near 
a  new  act  of  creation,  that  it  illustrates  it; 
and  this  ,  illustration  God  expects  from 
those  whom  he  hath  qualified  for  it,  by 
giving  them  parts  above  other  men,  vir- 
tuous and  good  dispositions,  and  if  he  adds 
eminency  of  place  too,  which  draws  the 
eyes  of  men  more  upon  them,  and  inclines 
them  to  submit  to  their  advice  and  direc- 
tions. And  it  is  no  discharge  of  their  duty 
to  be  innocent  and  entire  themselves,  if 
they  do  not  make  others  so  by  their  con- 
versation as  well  as  their  example:  they 
are  very  good  magistrates  (and  a  common- 
wealth prospers  much  the  better  for  hav- 
ing such)  who  are  very  strict  and  severe 
against  offenders,  and  retain  men  within 
their  duties,  by  punishing  those  who  trans- 


152  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

gress;  but  they  are  much  better  magis- 
trates, who,  by  their  communication  and 
instruction,  and  any  other  condescension, 
can  lessen  the  number  of  delinquents; 
which,  without  doubt,  is  in  every  good 
man's  power  to  do,  according  to  their  se- 
veral degrees,  if  they  made  it  their  business 
(and  better  business  they  cannot  have,)  to 
inform  their  friends  and  their  neighbours 
before  they  commit  faults,  and -reclaim  them 
after  they  have  committed  them  by  animad- 
versions and  reprehensions.  The  malignity 
of  man's  nature  is  not  so  violent  and  im- 
petuous, as  to  hurry  them  at  first,  and  at 
once,  into  any  supreme  and  incorrigible 
love  of  wickedness:  poor  people  begin  first 
to  be  idle,  which  brings  want  upon  them, 
before  they  arrive  at  the  impudence  of 
stealing;  and  if  they  were  at  first  brought 
to  be  in  love  with  industry,  which  is  as 
easily  learned,  and  it  may  be  in  itself  as 
easy  as  idleness,  the  other  mischief  would 
be  never  thought  of.  The  first  ingredi- 
ents into  the  most  enormous  crimes,  are 
ignorance,  incogitance,  or  some  sudden 
violent  passion;  which  a  little  care  in  a 
charitable  neighbour  might  easily  inform 
and  reform,  before  it  grow§  up  into  rebel- 
lion, or  contempt  of  religion.     Every  man 


0F 'counsel  and  conversation.     163 

ought  to  be  a  physician  to  him  for  whose 
mahidy  he  bath  a  rertain  cure;  and  there  is 
scarce  a  more  infallible  cure  than  counsel 
and  conversation,  which  hath  often  recover- 
ed the  most  profligate  persons;  and  hath  so 
seldom  failed,  that  an  enormous  man  of  dis- 
solute and  debauched  manners  hath  been 
rarely  known,  who  hath  lived  in  frequent 
conversation  with  men  of  wisdom  and  un- 
blameable  lives.  But  it  will  be  said,  that 
such  people  will  never  like  or  endure  that 
conversation.  It  may  be,  like  ill  physicians, 
we  may  too  soon  despair  of  the  recovery  of 
some  patients,  and  therefore  leave  them  to 
desperate  experiments:  we  are  too  apt  to 
look  so  superciliously  upon  the  natural  levi- 
ties and  excesses  of  youth,  as  if  they  were 
not  worth  the  pains  of  conversion;  or  that  it 
would  be  best  wrought  by  necessities, 
contempt,  or  prisons:  either  of  which  are 
very  ill  schools  to  reduce  them  to  virtue. 
Such  men  will  never  decline  the  conversa- 
tion of  their  superiors,  if  they  may  be  ad- 
mitted to  it,  though  it  may  be  they  intend 
to  laugh  at  it;  but  by  this,  in  an  instant,  they 
depart  from  the  pleasure  of  obscene  and 
profane  discourses,  and  insensibly  find  an 
alteration  in  their  nature,  their  humour,  and 
their  manners;  there  being  a  sovereign  aad 


•LORD    CLARENDON  8   ESSAYS. 

a  subtle  spirit  in  the  conversation  of  good 
and  wise  men,  that  insinuates  itself  into  cor- 
rupt men,  that  though  they  know  not  how 
it  comes  about,  they  sensibly  feel  an  amend- 
ment: "Non  deprehendent  quemadmodum 
aut  quando,  profuisse  deprehendent;"  they 
cannot  tell  how  or  when,  but  they  are  sure 
they  are  restored.  It  is  gre;it  pity  that  so 
infallible  a  medicine  should  be  locked  up  by 
prejudice  or  morosity. 


XIII.    OF    PROMISES. 

MoDtpellia',  1670. 

Promises  was  the  ready  money  that  was 
first  coined,  and  made  current  by  the  law 
of  nature,  to  support  that  society  and  com- 
merce that  was  necessary  for  the  comfort 
and  security  of  mankind;  and  they  who  have 
adulterated  this  pure  and  legitimate  metal 
with  an  allay  of  distinctions  and  subtle  eva- 
sions, have  introduced  a  counterfeit  and  per- 
nicious coin,  that  destroys  all  the  simplicity 
and  integrity  of  human  <;onversation.  For 
what  obligations  can  ever  be  the  earnest  of 
faith  and  truth,  if  promises  may  be  violated? 
The  superinduction  of  others  for  the  cor- 
roboration and  maintenance  of  government 


OF    PR05riSES.  165 

had  been  much  less  necessary,  if  promises 
had  ptill  preserved  their  primitive  vigour 
and  reputation;  nor  can  any  thing  be  said 
for  the  non  performance  of  a  promise,  which 
may  not  as  reasonably  be  applied  to  the  non- 
observation  of  an  oath;  and  in  truth,  men 
have  not  been  observed  to  be  much  restrain- 
ed by  their  oaths,  who  have  not  been  punc- 
tual in  Iheir  promises,  the  same  sincerity  of 
nature  being  requisite  to  both.  The  phi- 
losopher went  farther  than  his  profession 
obliged  him,  or  in  truth  than  it  admitted, 
when  he  would  not  hare  the  performance 
exacted,  unless  "omnia  essent  eadem,  quae 
fuerint'cum  promittere?;"  and  the  distinc- 
tion was  necessary,  when  he  thought  it  fit  to 
avoid  a  promise  he  had  made  to  a  man  that 
appears  to  be  an  ill  man,  who  seemed  a  very 
good  and  worthy  person  when  he  made  this 
promise:  and  a  greater  change  could  not  be: 
yet  he  seemed  not  over  pleased  with  his 
own  distinction,  and  would  rather  comply 
with  his  promise,  if  it  could  be  done  with- 
out much  inconvenience.  But  too  many 
Christian  casuists  have  gone  much  farther 
in  finding  out  many  inventions  and  devices 
to  evade  and  elude  the  faith  of  promise,  if 
there  hath  been  force  or  fraud,  or  any  other 
circumvention,  in  the  contriving  the   pro- 


156  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

mise  and  engagement;  which  must  dissolve 
all  the  contracts  and  bargains  which  are 
commonly  made  among  men,  who  still  con- 
tend to  be  too  hard  for  one  another,  that 
they  may  advance  or  lessen  their  commodi- 
ty. And  no  doubt  the  forming  and  counte- 
oancing  those  dispensations  hath  introduced 
much  improbity  and  tergiversation  into  the 
nature  and  minds  of  men,  which  they  were 
not  acquainted  with  whilst  they  had  a  due 
consideration  of  the  sacredness  of  their  word 
and  promise.  It  is  from  the  impiety,  of  this 
doctrine,  that  we  run  with  that  precipitation 
into  promises  and  oaths,  and  think  it  lawful 
to  promise  that  which  we  know  to  be  unlaw- 
ful to  perform.  What  is  this  but  to  pro- 
claim perjury  to  be  lawful,  at  the  commit- 
ting whereof  every  Christian  heart  ought  to 
tremble;  or  rather  to  declare  that  there  is 
no  such  sin,  no  such  thing  as  perjury? 
There  is  no  question,  no  man  ought  to  per- 
form an  unlawful,  much  less  a  wicked  oath 
or  promise;  but  the  wickedness  of  executing 
it  doth  not  absolve  any  man  from  the  guilt 
and  wickedness  of  swearing  that  he  would 
do  it;  he  is  perjured  in  not  performing  that 
which  he  would  be  more  perjured  in  per- 
forming; and  men  who  unwarily  involve 
tb^noiselFes  ia  those  labyrinths,  cannot  find 


OF    PRpMISES.  167 

the  way  out  of  them  with  innocence,  and 
seldona  choose  to  do  it  with  that  which  is 
next  to  it,  hearty  repentance;  hot  devise 
new  expedients,  which  usually  increase 
their  crinrje  and  their  perplexity.  Where 
nothing  of  the  law  of  God  or  some  manifest 
deduction  from  thence  doth  controul  our 
promises,  it  is  ^reat  pity  that  the  mere  hu- 
man law  and  policy  of  government  should 
absolve  men  from  the  performance;  and  a 
good  conscience  will  compel  him  to  do  that 
whom  the  law  will  not  compel,  but  sufler  to 
evade  for  his  own  benefit.  We  have  not 
that  probity  which  nature  stated  us  in,  if  we 
do  not  "castigare  promittenui  lemeritatem," 
redeem  the  rashness  an<i  incogitance  of  our 
promise,  by  submitting  to  the  inconvenience 
and  damage  of  performance. 

It  is  one  of  the  greatest  arguments  which 
makes  Machiavel  seem  to  prefer  the  govern- 
ment of  a  commoovvoalth  before  that  of 
monarchy  (for  he  doth  but  seem  to  do  it, 
how  great  a  republican  soever  he  is  thought 
to  be,)  because  he  says  kings  and  princes 
are  less  direct  in  the  observation  of  their 
promises  and  contracts  than  republics  are; 
and  that  a  little  benefit  and  advantage  dis- 
poses them  to  violate  them,  when  no  profit 
that  can  accrue  prevails  upon  the  other  to 


158  LORD  cla&endon's  essays. 

recede  from  the  obligalion:  which  would  be 
indeed  an  argument  of  weight  and  inipoi- 
lance,  if  it  were  true.  Nor  does  the  in- 
stance he  gives  us  in  any  degree  prove  his 
assertion;  for  it  was  not  the  justice  of  the 
senate  of  Athens  that  refused  the  proposi- 
tion made  by  Themistocles,  for  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  whole  fleet  of  the  rest  of  Greece, 
to  whom  it  vVas  never  made,  but  the  par- 
ticular exactness  of  AristiJes,  to  whom  it 
was  discovered  by  order  of  tlie  senate,  that 
he  might  consider  it;  and  he  reported,  that 
the  proposition  was  indeed  very  prolitable, 
but  most  dishonest,  upon  which  the  senate 
rejected  it,  without  knowing  more  of  it; 
which,  if  they  had  done,  it  is  probable,  by 
their  other  practices,  that  they  might  not  so 
readily  have  declined  it  Nor  is  the  instance 
he  gives  of  Philip  of  Macedon  other  than  a 
general  averment,  without  stating  the  case: 
as  his  adored  republic  of  Rome  never  out- 
lived that  infamous  judgment,  that,  when  a 
difference  between  two  of  their  neighbours 
was  by  a  joint  consent  referred  to  their 
arbitrement,  to  whom  a  piece  of  land  in  dif- 
ference and  dispute  between  them  should 
belong,  determined  that  it  should  belong  to 
neither  of  them,  but  that  they  the  republic 
^f  Rome  should  enjoy  it  themselves,  be- 


OF    PROMISES.  159 

cause  it  lay  very  convenient  for  them;  so 
that  form  of  government  hiith  never  since 
raided  any  monuments  of  their  truth  and  jus- 
tice, in  the  observation  of  the  promises  and 
contracts  which  they  have  made.  But  though 
his  comnarison  and  preference  bad  no  good 
foundation,  he  had  too  much  reason  to  ob- 
^erve,  in  the  time  in  which  he  lived,  how 
little  account  princes  made  of  their  word 
and  promises,  by  the  several  and  contradic- 
tory investitures  which  in  a  short  time  had 
been  given  of  the  kmgdom  of  Naples,  which 
overtloived  all  Italy  with  a  deluge  of  blood, 
by  the  inconstancy  and  tergiversation  of  Fer- 
dinand of  Arragon,  who  swallowed  up  all  the 
other  investitures;  and  afterwards,  by  the 
insatiable  ambition  and  animosity  between 
Charles  the  Fiflhand  Francis  the  First,  when 
treaties  and  leagues  were  entered  into,  that 
they  might  take  breath  when  they  were  wea- 
ry, and  with  no  other  purpose  than  to  watch 
an  opportunity  to  break  it  to  their  advantage. 
This  indeed  was  too  great  a  prostitution  of 
the  dignity  and  faith  of  kings  to  the  censure 
and  reproach  of  their  subjects,  who  found 
J  "^  themselves  every  day  under  sentences  and 
I  judgments  for  the  breach  of  their  words  and 
contracts,  which  they  had  not  entered  into 
with  half  that  solemnity,  and  that  they  must 


160  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

be  bound  to  waste  their  estates,  and  lose  or 
tenture  their  lives  in  the  maintenance  and 
defence  of  their  prince's  wilful  and  affected 
violation  of  their  word,  promise,  and  oath, 
to  satisfy  their  pride  or  their  humour:  and 
it  may  be,  that  easy  inclination  to  faithless- 
ness, in  which  God  Almighty  was  made  a 
party  and  a  property  in  all  their  contracts, 
hath  been  a  principal  motive  and  cause  of 
his  heavy  judgments  upon  those  royal  fami- 
lies; of  which  one,  after  a  numerous  issue, 
which  might  naturally  have  lasted  to  the  end 
of  the  world,  hath  been  long  since  so  fully 
extinguished,  that  the  name  of  Valois  is  lost 
in  any  lawful  line;  and  the  other  is  so  near 
expired,  that  it  hath  not  strength  left  to  draw 
much  fear  from  their  neighbo»)rv  or  reve- 
rence from  their  subjects,  as  if  they  looked 
upon  it  as  worn  out  and  forsaking  the  world. 
How  observable  seever  the  fate  of  those 
very  great  princes  hath  been,  vet  their  suc- 
cessors have  taken  little  notice  of  it;  and 
though  their  virtues  (for  they  had  both 
transcendent  princely  qualities)  have  lan- 
guished in  imitation,  their  vices  have  been 
propagated  with  great  vigour:  and  Chris- 
tianity hath  not  a  fitter  scene  for  lamenta- 
tion, than  the  consideration  how  little  ac- 
count kings  and  princes  still  make  of  the 


OF  PROMISES.  161 

faith  they  give  to  each  other,  and  npon  how 
little  or  no  provocation  they  break  it,  upon 
the  least  temptation  of  their  inconveniency, 
or  only  hecause  they  are  able  to  do  it  vvith- 
out  controul  or  op[»osition:  so  that  it  is  looked 
upon  as  no  crime  in  a  king,  which  is  infamy  in 
a  gentleman;  as  if  because  there  is  no  tribu- 
nal before  which  they  can  be  accused,  they 
cannot  therefore  be  guilty  of  perjury.  But 
they  should  wisely  remember  and  foresee, 
that  there  is  a  high  court  of  justice  before 
which  they  must  inevitably  appear,  where 
the  perjury  of  princes  will  be  so  much  more 
severely  punished  than  that  of  private  men, 
by  how  much  it  is  always  attended  with  a 
train  of  blood,  and  rapine,  and  other  ill  con- 
sequenceSj  which  the  other  is  not  guilty   of 


XIV.    OF    LIBERTY. 

Montpellier,  MTOb  ;i.: 

Liberty  is  the  charm,  which  mutinous  and' 
seditious    persons  use,  to  pervert  and  cor- ' 
nipt  the  affections  of  weak  and  wilful  peo- 
ple, and  to  lead  them  into  rebellion  against 
their  princes  and  lawful  superiors:   "En  ilia, 
<juam  ssepe  optastis,  libertas,"  said  CataHne,  i 
when  he  would  draw  the  poor  people  into  a 
VOL.  V.  28 


162  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

conspiracy  against  the  commonwealth.  And 
in  that  transportation,  men  are  commonly 
so  weak  and  wilful,  that  they  insensibly  sub- 
mit to  conditions  of  more  restraint  and  com- 
pulsion, and  in  truth  to  more  and  heavier 
penalties  for  the  vindication  of  their  liberty, 
than  they  were  ever  liable  to  in  the  highest 
violation  of  their  liberty  of  which  they  com- 
plain, by  how  much  the  articles  of  war  are 
more  severe  and  hard  to  be  observed,  than 
the  strictest  injunctions  under  any  peacea- 
ble government.  However,  no  age  hath 
been  without  dismal  and  bloody  examples  of 
this  fury,  when  the  very  sound  of  liberty 
(which  may  well  be  called  a  charm)  hath 
hurried  those  who  would  sacrifice  to  it,  to 
do  and  to  suffer  all  the  acts  of  tyranny  imagi- 
nable, and  to  make  themselves  slaves  that 
they  may  be  free.  There  is  no  one  thing 
that  the  mind  of  man  may  lawfully  desire 
and  take  delight  in,  that  is  less  understood 
and  more  fatally  mistaken  than  the  word  lib- 
erty; which  though  no  man  is  so  mad  as  to 
say  it  consists  in  being  absolved  from  all  ob- 
ligations of  law,  which  would  give  every  man 
liberty  to  destroy  him,  yet  they  do  in  truth 
think  it  to  be  nothing  else  than  not  to  sub- 
ject to  those  laws,  which  restrain  them  from 
doing  somewhat  they  have   a  mind    to  do; 


UF    LIBERTY.  163 

sO  that  whoever  is  carried  away  upon  that 
seditious  invitation,  hath  set  his  heart  upon 
some  liberty  that  he  affects,  a  liberty  for 
revenge,  a  liberty  for  rapine,  or  the  lilje: 
which,  if  owned  and  avowed,  would  seduce 
very  few;  but  being  concealed,  every  man 
gratifies  himself  vvitii  such  an  image  of  lib- 
erty as  he  worships,  and  so  concur  together 
to  overthrow  that  government  that  is  incon- 
venient to  them  all,  though  disliked  by  very 
fevv  in  one  and  the  same  respect;  and  there- 
fore the  strength  of  rebellion  consists  in  the 
private  gloss  which  every  man  makes  to  him- 
self upon  the  declared  argument  of  it,  not 
upon  the  reasons  published  and  avowed,  how 
spacious  and  popular  soever;  and  thence  it 
comes  to  pass,  that  most  rebellions  expire  in 
a  general  detestation  of  the  first  promoters 
of  them,  by  those  who  kept  them  company 
in  the  prosecution,  and  discover  their  ends  to 
be  very  different  from  their  profession. 

True  and  precious  liberty,  that  is  only  to 
be  valued,  is  nothing  else  but  that  we  may 
not  be  compelled  to  do  any  thing  that  the  law 
hath  left  in  our  choice  whether  we  will  do 
or  no;  nor  hindered  from  doing  any  thing  we 
have  a  mind  to  do,  and  which  the  law  hath 
given  us  liberty  to  do.  if  we  have  a  mind  to 
it:  and  compulsion  and   force   in    either  of 


164  LORD  clareitoon's  ESSArS. 

these  cases,  is  an  act  of  violence  and  injustice 
against  our  right,  and  ought  to  be  repelled 
by  the  sovereign  power,  and  may  be  resisted 
so  far  by  ourselves  as  the  law  permits.  The 
law  is  the  standard  and  the  guardian  of  our 
liberty;  it  circumscribes  and  defends  it;  but 
to  imagine  liberty  ivithout  a  law,  is  to  ima- 
gine every  man  with  his  sword  in  his  hand,  to 
destroy  him  who  is  weaker  than  himself; 
and  that  would  be  no  pleasant  prospect  to 
those  who  cry  out  most  for  liberty.  Those 
men,  of  how  great  name  and  authority  so- 
ever, who  first  introduced  that  opinion,  that 
nature  produced  us  in  a  state  of  war,  and 
that  order  and  government  was  the  effect  of 
experience  and  contract,  by  which  man  sur- 
rendered the  rigjht  he  had  by  nature,  to  avoid 
that  violence  which  every  man  might  exer- 
cise upon  another,  have  been  the  authors  of 
much  mi.*chief  in  the  world,  by  infusing 
into  the  hearts  of  mankind  a  wrong  opinion 
of  the  institution  of  government,  and  that 
they  may  lawfully  vindicate  themselves  from 
the  ill  bargains  that  their  ancestors  made  for 
that  liberty  which  nature  gave  them,  and 
they  ought  only  to  have  released  their  own 
interest  and  what  concerned  themselves,  but 
that  it  is  most  unreasonable  and  unjust  that 
their  posterity  should  be  hound  by  their  ill- 


OF  LIBERTY.  166 

made  and  utiskilfal  contracts:  and  from  this, 
resentment  and  murmur,  war  and  rebellion 
have  arisen,  which  commonly  leave  men  un- 
der much  worse  condition  tiian  their  fore- 
fathers had  subjected  them  to.  Nor  is  it 
stran'ife  that  philosophers,  who  couid  ima- 
gine no  other  way  for  the  world  to  be  made, 
but  by  a  lucky  convention  and  conjunction 
of  atoms,  nor  could  satisfy  their  own  curios- 
ity in  any  ration. d  conjecture  of  the  struc- 
ture of  man,  or  from  what  omnipotency  he 
could  be  formed  or  created;  I  say,  it  is  no 
wonder,  that  men  so  much  in  the  dark  as  to 
milter  of  fact,  should  conceive  by  the  light 
of  their  reason,  that  government  did  arise  in 
th  (t  method,  and  by  those  argumentations, 
which  they  could  best  comprehend  capable 
to  produce"  such  a  conformity.  But  that 
men,  who  are  acquainted  with  the  scriptures, 
and  profess  to  believe  them;  who  thereby 
know  the  whole  history  of  the  creation,  and 
have  therein  the  most  lively  representations 
of  all  the  excesses  and  defects  of  nature; 
who  see  the  order  and  discipline  and  sub- 
jection prescribed  to  mankind  from  his  crea- 
tion, by  Him  who  created  him;  and  that  that 
discipline  and  subjection  was  complied  with 
till  the  world  was  grown -very  numerous; 
that  we,  after  so  clenr  information  of  what 


166  LORD    clarendon's  ESSAYS. 

was  really  and  in  truth  done  and  command- 
ed, should  resort  to  the  fancy  and  supposi- 
tion of  heathen  philosophers  for  the  inven- 
tion of  government,  is  very  unreasonable, 
and  hath  exposed  the  peace  and  qui^t  of 
kingdoms,  the  preservation  whereof  is  the 
obligation  of  conscience  and  religion,  to  the 
wild  imaginations  of  men,  upon  the  unground- 
ed conceptions  of  the  primitive  foundation  of 
subjection  and  obedience,  and  to  their  li- 
cence to  enervate  both,  by  their  bold  defi- 
nitions and  distinctions. 

Because  very  much  of  the  benefit  of 
Christianity  consisted  in  the  liberty  it  gave 
mankind  from  that  thraldom  which  it  suffer- 
ed under  the  law,  and  in  the  manumission 
and  deliverance  from  those  observations  and 
ceremonies,  the  apostles  took  not  more  care 
in  the  institution  of  any  part  of  it,  than  that 
men  might  not  be  intoxicated  with  the  plea- 
sant taste  of  that  liberty,  or  imagine  that  it 
extended  to  a  lawlessness  in  their  actions, 
well  foreseeing,  and  being  jealous  lest  their 
opinion  of  liberty  might  degenerate  into  li- 
centiousness; and  therefore  they  circum- 
scribed it  with  all  possible  caution,  that  they 
might  have  the  whole  benefit  to  themselves 
in  abstaining  from  what  was  grievous  and 
bnrthensome  to  them,  not  the  presumption 


OF  LIBERTV.  167 

to  disturb  other  men:  "But  take  heed  lest 
by  any  means  this  liberty  of  yours  become 
a  stumbling-block  to  them  that  are  weak," 
saith  St.  Paul,  (1  Cor.  viii.  9.)  Do  not 
dissemble  and  give  men  cause  to  believe, 
by  accompanying  them  in  what  they  do, 
that  thou  dost  intend  as  they  do,  and  hast 
the  same  thoughts  with  them.  "Use  not 
liberty  for  an  occasion  to  the  flesh,"  is  aa 
injunction  of  the  same  apostle  (Gal.  v.  13.) 
How  good  a  title  soever  you  have  to  liberty, 
be  not  exalted  by  it  to  anger,  and  provoke 
a  man,  who  (though  by  want  of  understand- 
ing) doth  notjhink  himself  as  free  as  thou 
art:  no  proportion  of  liberty  will  permit 
thee  to  be  uncharitable,  much  less  to  apply 
it  to  satisfy  thy  ambition,  or  any  other  un- 
lawful afiectioji.  Of  all  kind  of  affectations 
of  liberty,  to  which  the  soul  of  man  lets  it- 
self loose,  there  is  none  ought  to  be  more 
carefully  watched,  and  more  strictly  examin- 
ed, than  that  which  is  so  passionately  pre- 
tended to,  and  so  furiously  embraced,  lib- 
erty of  conscience:  other  liberties  which 
nature  inclines  and  disposes  us  unto,  how 
unwarrantable  soever,  may  with  more  ex- 
cuse, if  not  with  more  innocence,  be  in- 
dulged to,  than  that  liberty  which  seems  to 


168  LORD  clarendon's  essavs. 

take  its  rise  from  conscience:  which,  i» 
truth,  if  it  be  legitimate,  is  the  dictate  of 
God  himself;  and  therefore  men  ought  to 
tremble  in  imputing  any  thing  to  result  from 
Him,  that  leads  them  to  the  direct  breach  of 
any  of  his  commandments,  indeed  that  doth 
not  restrain  them  from  it.  It  is  a  very 
severe  limitation  by  St.  James,  "So  speak 
ye,  and  so,  do,  as  they  that  shall  be  judged 
by  the  law  of  liberty,"  (James  ii.  12.)  That 
liberty  that  will  not  be  judged  by  the  law, 
is  an  unlawful  liberty;  and  men  will  tind,  if 
they  are  diligent  in  seeking,  that  the  law  of 
Christ,  which  is  the  judge  of  Christian  lib- 
erty, doth  oblige  all  his  followers  to  submit 
to  the  la^vs  of  their  lawful  sovereigns  which 
are  not  directly,  and  to  their  ksowledge, 
contradictory  to  his  own.  Conscience  is  so 
pure  a  fountain,  that  no  polluted  water  can 
be  drawn  from  thence;  and  therefore  St. 
Peter  pronounces  a  judgment  upon  those, 
who,  upon  their  being  free,  use  their  liber- 
ty for  a  cloak  of  maliciousness,  cover  their 
wicked  designs  under  the  liberty  of  con- 
science, and  fo  make  God  accessary  to  the 
iniquity  he  abhors. 


OF  INDUSTRY.  ,      .  16^ 


XV.  OF  INDUSTRY. 

MoDtpelKar,  10TD< 

Industry  is  the  cordial  that  nature  hath 
provided  to  cure  all  its  own  infirmities  and 
diseases,  and  to  supply  all  its  defects;  the 
weapon  to  preserve  and  defend  us  against 
all  the  strokes  and  assaults  of  fortune;  it  is 
that  only  that  conducts  us  through  any  noble 
enterprise  to  a  noble  end:  what  we  obtaio 
without  it  is  by  chance;  what  we  obtaio 
with  it  is  by  virtue.  It  is  very  great  pity 
that  so  powerful  ao  instrument  should  be 
put  into  the  hands  of  wicke(l  men,  who 
thereby  gain  such  infinite  advantages;  yet 
it  cannot  be  denied  but  that  it  is  a  virtue 
which  ill  men  make  use  of  to  very  ill  pur- 
poses. It  was  the  first  foundation  of  Jero- 
boam's greatness:  "And  Solomon  seeing  the 
young  man  that  he  was  industrious,  he  made 
him  ruler  over  all  the  charge  of  the  house 
of  Joseph,"  (1  Kings  xi.  28.)  by  which 
he  got  credit  and  authority  to  deprive  bis 
son  of  the  greatest  part  of  his  dominions. 
There  is  no  art  or  science  that  is  too  diffi- 
cult for  industry  to  attain  to;  it  is  the  gift 
of  tongues,  and  makes  a  man  understood  and 
valued  in  all  countries,  and  by  all  nations; 


170  LORD  CLARBNDON^S  ESSAYS 

it  is  the  philosopher's  stone,  that  turns  all 
metals,  and  even  stones,  into  gold,  and  suffers 
no  want  to  break  into  its  dwellings;  it  is  the 
north-west  passage,  that  brings  the  mer- 
chant's ships  as  soon  to  him  as  he  can  desire: 
in  a  word,  it  conquers  all  enemies,  and 
makes  fortune  itself  pay  contribution.  If 
this  omnipotent  engine  were  applied  to  all 
virtuous  and  worthy  purposes,  it  would  reot 
out  all  vice  from  the  world;  for  the  indus- 
try of  honest  men  is  much  more  powerful 
than  the  industry  of  the  wicked,  which  pre- 
vails not  so  much  by  its  own  activity,  as  by 
the  remissness  and  supine  laziness  of  their 
unwary  enemies.  The  beauty  and  the 
brightness  of  it  appear  most  powerfully  to 
our  observation,  by  the  view  of  the  con- 
tempt and  deformity  of  that  which  is  most 
opposite  to  it,  idleness;  which  enfeebles 
and  enervates  the  strength  of  the  soundest 
constitutions,  shrinks  and  stupifies  the  facul- 
ties of  the  most  vigorous  mind,  and  gives 
all  the  destroying  diseases  to  body  and  mind, 
without  the  contribution  from  any  other 
vice.  Idleness  is  the  sin  and  the  punish- 
ment of  beggars,  and  should  be  detested  by 
all  noble  persons,  as  a  disease  pestilential 
to  their  fortune  and  their  honour. 


I 


OF    INDUSTRY.  171 

]  know  not  how  it  comes  to  pass,  but  the 
world  pays  dear  for  the  folly  of  it,  that  this 
transcendent  qualification  of  industry  is  look- 
ed upon  only  as  an  assistant  fit  for  vu^ar 
spirits,  to  which  nature  hath  not  been  boun- 
tiful in  the  distribution  of  her  store;  as  the 
refuge  for  dull  and  heavy  men,  who  have 
neither  their  conceptions  nor  apprehensions 
within  any  distance,  nor  can  arrive  at  any 
ordinary  design  without  much  labour  and 
toil,  and  many  unnecessary  revolvings,  which 
men  of  sharp  and  pregnant  parts  stand  in  no 
need  of,  whose  rich  fancy  presents  to  them 
in  a  moment  the  view  of  all  contingencies,  and 
all  that  occurs  to  formal  and  elaborate  men 
after  all  their  sweat;  that  they  view  and  sur- 
rey and  judge  and  execute,  whilst  the  others 
are  tormenting  themselves  with  imaginations 
of  difficulty,  till  all  opportunities  are  lost; 
that  it  is  an  afifront  to  the  liberality  of  nature, 
and  to  the  excellent  qualities  she  hath  be- 
stowed upon  them,  to  take  pains  to  find  what 
they  have  about  them,,  and  to  doubt  that 
which  is  most  evident  to  them,  because  mea 
who  have  more  dim  sights  cannot  discern  so 
far  as  they:  and  by  this,  haughty  childish- 
ness they  quickly  deprive  themselves  of  the 
plentiful  supplies  which  nature  hath  given 
them,  for  want  of  nourishment  and  recruits. 


17S  LORD    CliARENDON's   ESSAYS. 

If  diligent  and  industrious  men  raise  them- 
selves, with  very  ordinary  assistance  from 
nature,  to  a  great  and  deserved  height  of 
reputation  and  honour,  by  their  solid  ac- 
quired wisdom  and  confessed  judgment,  what 
noble  flights  would  such  men  make  with 
equal  industry  who  are  likewise  liberally 
endowed  with  the  advantages  of  nature! 
And  without  that  assistance,  experience 
makes  it  manifest  unto  us,  that  those  early 
buddings,  how  vigorous  soever  they  appear, 
if  they  are  neglected  and  uncultivated  by 
serious  labour,  they  wither  and  fade  away 
without  producing  any  thing  that  is  notable. 
Tully's  rule  to  his  orator  is  as  true  in  all 
conditions  of  life,  "Quantum  detraxit  ex 
studio,  tantum  amisit  ex  gloria." 


XVI.    OF    SICKNESS. 

MontpeUier,  1670. 

"Health  and  a  good  estate  of  body  are 
above  all  gold,  and  a  strong  body  above  in- 
finite wealth,"  says  the  son  of  Sirach,  (Ecc. 
XXX  15.)  and  the  greatest  benefit  of  health 
is,  that  whilst  it  lasts,  the  mind  enjoys  its 
full  vigour;  whereas  sickness,  by  the  dis- 
temper of  the  body,  discomposes  the  mind 


OP    SICKNESS.  173 

as  much,  and  deprives  its  faculties  of  all 
their  lustre.  Sickness  and  pain,  which  is 
always  attended  with  want  of  sleep,  disturb, 
if  not  confound,  the  thoughts,  and  rob 
them  of  all  their  serenity;  and  infuse  bro- 
ken and  melancholy  and  irresolute  imagina- 
tions, which  are  as  grievous  and  as  painful 
as  the  sickness  itself.  It  is  one  of  God's 
kindest  messengers,  to  put  us  in  mind  of 
our  folly  and  incogitance,  and  excess  in 
health;  and  how  discomposed  and  disconso* 
late  soever  it  renders  our  thoughts,  it 
awakens  those  which  have  long  slept,  and 
presents  many  things  to  our  clearest  view, 
which  we  had  laid  aside  never  to  be  thought 
of  more.  Our  memory  is  much  more  at  our 
own  disposal  in  our  health,  when  negligence, 
mirth,  and  jollity  have  introduced  such  an 
inco^itancy,  that  we  seldom  remember  anj' 
thing  that  may  trouble  us;  and  if  any  thing 
of  that  kind  intrude  into  our  thoughts,  we 
have  many  sorts  of  remedies  io  drive  it  from 
thence:  but  sickness  rouses  up  that  faculty; 
and,  above  all,  suffers  us  not  to  forget  any 
thing  of  that  which  gives  us  most  trouble  in 
remembering.  Every  ambitious  and  every 
malicious  thought  of  our  own,  of  which  no- 
body can  accuse  us,  every  proud  and  injuri- 
ous word,  of  which  nobody  dares  accuse  us. 


174  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

and  every  insolent  and  unlawful  action, 
which'nobody  will  take  upon  them  to  con- 
trol, present  themselves  clearly  to  our 
view  in  their  most  naked  dress,  and  will 
not  suffer  us  to  sleep,  when  our  bodily 
pain  and  sickness  intermit  enough  to  give 
us  that  ease:  they  are  now  as  importu- 
nate and  insolent  towards  us  as  they  have 
been  heretofore  towards  others;  and  take 
revenge,  on  the  behalf  of  those  towards 
whom  we  have  been  injurious,  upon  our- 
selves. And  in  this  excellent  perspective, 
through  which  we  see  all  our  faults  and  all 
our  follies  without  varnish  or  disguise,  it 
is  probable  we  may  discern  more  than  our 
physicians  can  inform  us,  the  very  natural 
cause  of  that  sickness  and  distemper  under 
which  we  labour,  from  some  excess  long 
since  committed  and  now  punished.  And 
God  forbid  that  these  unwilling  and  unwel- 
come recollections  should  not  make  that  im- 
pression and  reformation  in  us  which  they 
ought  to  do!  which  were  to  disappoint  God's 
messengerj  Sickness,  of  the  effect  for  which 
he  was  sent;  and  which  indeed  is  the  only 
way  to  recover  our  health,  or  a  much  better 
and  more  lasting  health  than  that  which  we 
have  lost.  But  yet  we  may  lawfully  and 
.piously  say,  that  all  these  recollections  and 


OF    SICKNESS.  176 

reflections,  which  we  cannot  avoid  in  sick- 
ness, and  which  in  that  season  may  as  natu- 
rally proiluce  despair  as  repentance,  are 
much  more  seasonable,  much  more  advan- 
tageous in  health,when  our  memory  can  much 
more  deliberately  reproach  us,  and  all  our 
faculties  can  perform  their  oflices  towards 
such  a  repentance,  as  may  in  some  degree 
repair  the  ill  we  have  done,  as  well  as  ac- 
knowledge it,  and  confirm  us  in  such  a  firm 
habit  of  virtues,  as  no  temptation  may  have 
strength  enough  to  corrupt  us.  A  man  may 
as  reasonably  expect,  by  one  week's  good 
husbandry,  to  repair  the  bre.iches  and 
wastes  which  he  hath  made  in  his  fortune 
by  seven  years  licence  and  excess,  as  to 
repair  and  satisfy  for  the  enormities  and 
transgressions  of  his  life  in  sickness,  that 
is  the  forerunner  of  death,  and  always 
most  intolerable  to  them  who  have  put  off 
all  thoughts  till  then,  and  which  at  that  time 
crowd  in  upon  him  rather  to  oppress  than 
inform  him.  The  truth  is,  men  ought  io 
have  no  other  business  to  do  in  sickness  than 
to  die;  which,  when  the  thoughts  are  least 
disturbed,  sickness  only  makes  them  willing 
to  do. 


176  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 


XVII.    OF    PATIENCE. 

MentpelUer,  1070. 

Patience  is  a  Christian  virtue,  a  habit  of 
the  mind  that  doth  not  only  bear  and  suffer 
contnmelies,  reproach,  and  oppression,  but 
extracts  all  the  venom  out  of  them,  and 
compounds  a  cordial  out  of  the  ingredients, 
that  preserves  the  health,  and  even  restores 
the  cheerfulness  of  the  countenance,  and 
works  miracles  in  many  respects;  and  under 
this  notion  we  have  in  another  place  taken 
a  view  of  it:  we  vvill  consider  it  now,  only 
as  it  is  a  moral  virtue,  a  temper  of  mind  (hat 
controls  or  resists  all  the  brutish  effects  of 
choler,  anger,  and  rage;  and  in  this  regard 
it  works  miracles  too;  it  prevents  the  incon- 
veniences and  indecencies  which  anger 
would  produce,  and  diverts  the  outrages 
which  choler  and  rage  would  commit:  if  it 
be  not  sharp-sighted  enough  to  prevent  dan- 
ger, it  is  composed  and  resolute  enough  to 
resist  and  repel  the  assault;  and,  by  keeping 
all  t"he  faculties  awake,  is  very  rarely  sur- 
prised, and  quickly  discerns  any  advantages 
which  are  offered,  because  its  reason  is 
never  disturbed,  much  less  confounded. 
There  is  no  question  but  where  this  excel- 


OF    PATIENCE.  177 

lent  blessed  temper  is  the  effect  of  delibera- 
tion, and  the  observation  of  the  folly  and 
madness  of  sudden  passion,  it  must  consti- 
tute the  greatest  perfection  of  wisdom;  but 
it  hath  in  itself  so  much  of  virtue  and  advan- 
tage, that  when  it  proceeds  from  the  heavi- 
ness of  the  constitution,  and  from  some  de- 
fect in  the  faculties,  it  is  not  wholly  without 
use  and  benefit;  it  may  possibly  not  do  so 
much  good  as  more  sprightly  and  active  men 
use  to  perform,  but  then  it  never  does  the 
harm  that  quick  and  hasty  men  are  common- 
ly guilty  of;  and  as  fire  is  much  easier  and 
sooner  kindled  than  it  is  extinguished,  ~we 
frequently  find  dull  and  phlegmatic  persons 
attain  to  a  warmth  and  maturity  of  judgment, 
and  to  a  wonderful  discerning  of  what  ought 
or  ought  not  to  be  done,  than  men  of  quick- 
er and  more  subtle  parts  of  nature,  who  sel- 
dom bear  cogitandi  lahornn :  whereas  the 
other,  by  continual  thinking,  repair  the  de- 
fects of  nature,  and  with  industry  supply 
themselves  with  that  which  nature  refused 
to  give  them.  All  men  observe,  in  the  liti- 
gation of  the  schools,  that  the  calm  and  un- 
disturbed disputants  maintain  their  point  and 
pursue  their  end  much  more  efficaciously 
than  their  angry  and  vehement  adversaries, 
whose  passions  lead  them  into  absurd  con- 
voi..  V.  29 


178  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

cessions  and  undiscerned  contradictions;  all 
the  ambitious  designs  for  honour  and  prefer- 
ment, all  the  violent  pursuits  of  pleasure  and 
profit,  are  but  disputations  and  contentions 
to  maintain  their  theses,  to  compass  that 
which  men  have  a  mind  to  obtain;  and  though 
the  boldest  men  do  sometimes  possess  them- 
selves of  the  prize,  it  is  but  sometimes,  and 
when  it  is  not  warily  guarded:  the  dispas- 
sionate candidates  are  not  so  often  disap- 
pointed, nor  so  easily  discouraged;  they  are 
intent  and  advancing,  wnen  the  others  have 
given  over;  and  then  they  enjoy  what  they 
get  with  much  more  satisfaction,  because 
they  pursued  with  less  greediness.  Angry  and 
choleric  men  are  as  ungrateful  and  unsocia- 
ble as  thunder  and  lightning,  being  in  them- 
selves all  storm  and  tempests;  but  quiet  and 
easy  natures  are  like  fair  weather,  welcome 
to  aH,  and  acceptable  to  all  men;  they  gath- 
er together  what  the  other  disperses,  and 
reconcile  all  whom  the  other  incenses;  as 
they  have  the  good  will  and  the  good  wishes 
of  all  other  men,  so  they  have  the  full  pos- 
session of  themselves,  have  all  their  own 
thoughts  at  peace,  and  enjoy  quiet  and  ease 
in  their  own  fortunes  how  strait  soever; 
whereas  the  other  neither  love,  nor  are  be- 
loved, and  make  war  the  more  faintly  upon 


OP  REPENTAITGE.  179 

others,  because  they  have  no  peace  withia 
themselves;  and  though  they  are  very  ill 
company  to  every  body  else,  they  are  worst 
of  all  to  themselves,  which  is  a  punishment 
that  nature  hath  provided  for  them  who  de- 
light in  being  vexatious  and  uneasy  to  oth- 
ers. 


XVIII.    OF    REPENTANCE. 

Sept.  8,  1000. 

Repentance  is  the  greatest  business  we  have 
to  do  in  this  world,  and  the  only  harbinger 
we  can  send  before  us  to  provide  for  our  ac- 
commodation in  the  next;  it  is  the  only  to- 
ken we  can  carry  with  us  thither  of  our  be- 
ing Christians,  which  is  the  only  title  and 
claim  we  can  make  to  be  admitted  into  hea- 
ven. It  was  the  only  doctrine  the  prophets 
preached  to  prepare  the  world  for  the  re- 
ception of  our  Saviour;  and  we  may  justly 
believe  that  his  coming  was  the  longer  de- 
ferred, by  the  little  growth  that  doctrine  had 
in  the  hearts  of  men;  and  it  was  the  princi- 
pal doctrine  he  chose  to  preach  himself  after 
he  was  come,  to  make  his  coming  effectual, 
and  to  make  way  for  Christianity,  of  which 
they  were  otherwise  incapable.     There  is 


180  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

not,  it  may  be,  a  consideration  in  the  whole 
history  of  the  life  and  death  of  our  Saviour, 
upon  the  ground  and  end  of  his  being  born, 
and  all  the  circnmstances  of  his  living  and 
dying,  which  ought  to  affect  us  more  with 
sorrow  and  amazement,  than  that  this  pre- 
cious antidote,  which  can  only  expel  thai  poi- 
son which  must  otherwise  destroy  us,  that 
this  sovereign  repentance  is  so  little  thought 
of,  so  little  considered,  so  little  understood, 
what  it  is,  and  what  it  is  not,  that  it  is  no 
wonder  that  it  is  so  little  practised,  it  is 
wonderful  with  some  horror,  that  there  is 
not  one  Christian  in  the  world,  how  differ- 
ent soever  in  other  opinions,  who  doth  pro- 
fess to  have  any  hope  of  salvation  without 
repentance,  and  yet  that  there  are  so  few  who 
take  any  pains  to  be  informed  of  it,  or  know 
how  to  practise  it.  It  is  almost  the  only 
point  of  faith  upon  which  there  is  no  con- 
troversy; as  if  there  were  a  general  con- 
spiracy to  make  no  words  of  it,  le?tit  should 
suppress  all  other  discords  and  contentions. 
It  were  to  be  wished  therefore  that  all  par- 
ticular persons,  who  have  any  sense  of  con- 
science, or  so  much  as  a  desire  to  live  inno- 
cently for  the  future,  that  they  may  die  com- 
fortably, would  seriously  apply  themselves 
to  weigh  well  what  that  repentance  in  truth  is. 


«  OF    REPENTANCE.  181 

which  they  themselves  think  to  be  necessary 
to  their  salvation,  and  without  which  they 
even  know  that  they  cannot  be  saved;  that 
they  may  neither  be  imposed  upon  by  others, 
nor  impose  upon  themselves,  by  imagining  it 
to  be  a  perfunctory  duty,  to  be  taken  up  and 
performed  when  they  have  a  mind  to  it,  and 
to  be  repeated  as  often  as  they  have  need 
of  it.  And  it  may  be  kingdoms  and  states 
cannot  find  a  better  expedient  for  their  own 
peace  and  security,  and  for  the  composing 
the  minds  and  affections  of  their  subjects, 
than  for  some  time  to  silence  all  disputes  in 
religion,  and  to  enjoin  all  preachers  in  their 
pulpits  and  their  conversation,  only  to  incul- 
cate the  doctrine  of  repentance;  that  as 
all  people  confess  the  necessity  and  profess 
the  practice  of  it,  so  they  may  be  so  well 
instructed  and  informed  of  the  true  nature 
and  obligations  of  it,  that  they  may  know 
themselves  whether  they  do  practise  it,  and 
whether  they  are  so  well  prepared  for  their 
last  journey  as  they  believe  or  imagine 
themselves  to  be. 

Repentance  then  is  a  godly  sorrow  for 
having  done  or  committed  somewhat  that 
God  hath  forbidden  them  to  do,  or  for  hav- 
ing omitted  to  do  somewhat  that  he  hath 
commanded  us  to  do,  and  which  was  in  our 


182  LORD    CLARENDON  S    ESSAYS. 

power  to  have  done.  Where  there  is  bo 
sorrow,  there  can  be  no  repentance;  and 
where  the  sorrow  is  not  godly,  there  can  be 
no  tnie  repentance.  The  conscience  noust 
be  troubled  and  afflicted  for  having  offended 
God,  and  principally  for  that,  before  it  can 
produce  repentance.  Too  many  are  sorry, 
Tery  sorry,  for  having  lost  their  tinae  in  pur- 
suingasin  without  effect,  without  compassing 
their  desire;  but  this  is  far  from  repentance, 
and  they  are  as  ready  for  the  like  new  en- 
gagement upon  any  new  opportunity. 
Whereas  a  godly  sorrow  exempts  a  man 
from  such  temptation,  and  so  fortifies  him 
against  it,  that  all  the  advantages  of  the  world 
could  not  again  prevail  with  him  to  commit 
the  same  sin  of  which  he  repents,  because 
he  so  grievously  offended  God  in  the  com- 
mitment. The  son  of  Sirach  could  not  think 
of  any  thing  so  contradictory  and  ridiculous, 
as  of  a  man  that  fasteth  for  his  sins,  and 
goeth  again  and  doth  the  same;  who  will 
hear  his  prayer,  or  what  doth  his  humbling 
profit  him?  God  only  knows  how  far  the  most 
serious  and  unfeigned  repentance  will  ena- 
ble and  strengthen  us  to  resist  future  temp- 
tation; but  we  may  all  know  that  it  is  no  re- 
pentance at  all,  that  is  not  attended  with  a 
first  resolution  never  to  fall  into  the  same 


OF  REPENTANCE.  183 

sia  again,  whereof  he  makes  a  true  repen- 
tance; and  we  may  piously  believe,  that  God 
will  support  that  hearty  repentance  to  that 
degree,  that  we  shall  never  fall  into  the  same 
again  ;  and  if  we  do  find  ourselves  prone  to 
it  hereafter,  we  have  much  more  reason  to 
conclude  that  our  repentance  was  not  sin- 
cere, than  that  repentance  hath  not  strength 
enough  to  secure  us  against  such  assaults. 
Without  dotjbt  we  ought  not  to  flatter  our- 
selves with  an  opinion  or  imagination  that 
we  do  repent,  if  we  do  not  sensibly  feel  such 
a  resolution:  that  declaration  in  the  epistle 
to  the  Hebrews,  (vi.  4,  5,  6.)  hath  very 
much  of  horror  in  it;  "It  is  impossible  for 
those  who  were  once  enlightened,  and  have 
tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift,  and  were  made 
partakers  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  have  tasted 
the  good  word  of  God,  and  the  powers  of 
the  world  to  come,  if  they  shall  fall  away,  to 
renew  them  again  to  repentance;  since  they 
crucify  to  themselves  the  Son  of  God  afresh, 
and  put  him  to  an  open  shame."  How 
far  soever  it  may  please  God  to  exercise  his 
mercy  even  to  those  who  are  so  miserably 
fallen,  of  which  no  man  can  presume,  sure 
it  ought  to  terrify  all  men  from  than  impu- 
dent impiety,  as  to  gratify  their  lust,  or  their 
intemperance,  or  their  rapine,  with  a  reso- 


184  LORD  clarendon's  essavs. 

lution  to  repent  when  they  have  done,  and 
so  make  that  presumption  a  stalking-hor«e  to 
the  worst  wickedness  and  villany.  Such 
deliberation  and  contemplation  upon  Gpd'g 
mercy  is  more  profaneness  and  blasphemy, 
than  rejecting  him  out  of  our  thoughts,  or 
concluding  that  he  cares  not  what  we  do. 
And  yet  there  is  too  much  reason  to  fear, 
that  in  so  frequent  confessions  and  as  fre- 
quent absolutions,  there  would  not  still  re- 
main the  commission  of  the  same  sins  in  the 
«ame  person,  if  they  did  not  play  with  re- 
pentance, and  believe  they  might  have  it 
whenever  they  call  for  it.  St.  Paul  tells  us, 
(Rom.  ii.  4.)  "That  the  goodness  of  God 
leadeth  us  to  repentance;''  and  men  may  as  rea« 
sonably  believe  that  they  may  be  saved  with- 
out repentance,  as  that  he  will  lead  those  to 
repentance,  who,  upon  the  confidence,  of 
it,  have  given  their  hands  to  the  devil,  to 
be  led  by  him  out  of  all  the  roads  which  lead 
to  repentance.  There  are  a  sort  of  cor- 
dials, which  are  purposely  made  to  be  ad- 
ministered only  in  extremity,  when  nature 
is  ready  to  expire,  and  not  able  to  perform 
its  functions;  but  as  those  cordials  do  not 
often  work  the  wished  effect,  so  they  are 
yery  often  forgotten  to  be  applied,  or  appli- 
ed too  late,  when  nature  is  spent  and  not  able 
to  receive  them.     If  this  sovereign  cordial 


OF    REPENTANCE.  186 

of  repentance  be  laid  aside  to  the  last  extre- 
mity, till  nature  is  so  far  decayed,  that  no  vice 
hath  strength  enough  to  contend,  or  be  im- 
portunate for  any  further  compliance,  it  i« 
no  wonder  if  it  be  then  forgotten,  and  faith 
be  not  strong  enough  to  call  for  it,  or  to  look 
for  any  benefit  from  it;  and  though  it  can 
never  come  unseasonably  or  un profitably,  or 
too  late,  yet  it  may  be  deferred  so  long,  that 
it  may  not  come  at  all;  which  they  have 
great  reason  to  apprehend,  who  find  by  expe- 
rience that  the  longer  they  defer  it,  the  less 
mind  and  inclination  they  have  to  finish  it; 
a»  bankrupts  have  least  mind  to  look  over 
and  examine  their  own  accounts. 

It  is  a  common  error,  and  the  greater 
and  more  mischievous  for  being  so  common, 
to  believe  that  repentance  best  becomes  and 
most  concerns  dying  men.  Indeed,  what  is 
necessary  every  hour  of  our  life,  is  necessa- 
ry in  the  hour  of  death  too,  and  as  long  as 
he  lives  he  will  have  need  of  repentance, 
and  therefore  it  is  necessary  in  the  hour  of 
death  too;  but  he  who  hath  constantly  ex- 
ercised himself  in  it  in  his  health  and  vigour, 
will  do  it  with  less  pain  in  his  sickness  and 
weakness;  and  he  who  hath  practised  it  all 
his  life,  will  do  it  with  more  ease  and  less 
perplexity  in  the  hour  of  his  death:  as  he 


186  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

who  hath  diligently  cast  up  every  page  of  » 
large  account,  will  better  be  able  to  state  the 
whole  sura  upon  a  little  »varning  in  the  last 
leaf,  than  he  can  do  which  must  look  over 
every  one  of  them.  Repentance  is  as  ne- 
cessary to  living  as  to  d^ing  well;  and  being 
carefully  and  constantly  practised,  makes  our 
lives  as  profitable  as  O'lr  deaths  comfortable; 
and  the  world  receives  more  benefit  by  our  liv- 
ing well  than  by  our  dying  well.  The  frequent 
revolving  our  own  errors,  follies,  and  defects, 
the  correcting  and  subduing  our  passions 
and  our  appetites,  all  which  is  repentance, 
makes  us  wiser  and  honester,  and  so  more 
prosperous  in  the  eyes  if  men;  and  a  seri- 
ous recollection  of  what  »ve  have  done  amiss 
towards  other  men  and  towards  ourselves, 
is  not  out  of  the  way  to  a  repentance  for 
having  offended  the  Divine  Providence:  they 
who  do  believe  (as  the  best  men  surely  do) 
that  there  is  no  day  of  their  life  (from  the 
time  that  th'^y  knew  the  difference  between 
good  and  bad)  in  which  they  have  not 
thought,  or  said,  or  done  somewhat,  for 
which  they  need  forgiveness  from  God  and 
man,  cannot  doubt  but  that  they  have  argu- 
ment for  repentance  every  day;  and  the 
oftener  they  make  those  recollections,  the 
more   cheerfully   they   live  aod  tiie  more 


6P    REPENTANCE.  187 

cheerfiilly  they  die:  and  the  laying  those 
troublesome  matters  aside  and  forgetting 
them,  will  not  serve  their  turn,  and  gives 
very  short  ease;  no  man  can  presume  so 
much  upon  an  ill  memory,  btit  that  many 
things  will  occur  to  him  which  he  had  rather 
forget,  and  in  seasons  in  which  he  is  most 
troubled  to  remember  them;  and  therefore 
it  was  no  ill  answer  that  he  gave  to  one  who 
offered  to  teach  him  the  art  of  memory,  that 
he  rather  desired  the  art  of  forgetfulness; 
"meminerat  enim  quae  nollet.'^  The  only 
way  to  keep  the  conscience  in  a  posture  of 
confidence,  and  that  it  may  not  be  oppressed 
(and  no  tyranny  is  so  insupportable  as  the 
oppression  of  conscience,  1  mean  the  op- 
pression it  suffers  from  its  own  guilt)  is  fre- 
quently to  represent  to  its  naked  view  all 
its  deformities;  which  insensibly  produces 
sadness  and  remorse,  and  caution  against 
future  assaults;  and  we  have  it  only  in  our 
choice,  whether  we  will  then  call  them  be- 
fore us  and  take  a  prospect  of  them,  muster 
them  in  all  their  colours,  w  hen  we  can  upen 
the  matter  disarm  them,  by  extracting  all 
their  venom  and  poison  with  an  unfeigned 
repentance,  or  let  them  call  and  break  in 
upon  us  when  we  are  weak  and  in  pain,  and 
oot  able  to  bear  the  surprise.    The  philoso- 


188  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAY9. 

pher  thought  it  an  unanswerable  reason, 
why  he  should  take  an  exact  scrutiny  of  his 
own  faults  and  follies,  and  not  endeavour  to 
hide  them  from  himself  by  forgetting  them, 
because  upon  the  view  of  them  he  could  say 
unto  himself  (for  he  knew  not  whether  to 
rejoice  else)  "vide  ne  istud  amplius  facias; 
nunc  tibi  ignosco;"  though  his  own  pardon 
will  not  serve  his  turn,  if  he  be  sincere  in 
the  discovery  he  is  like  to  find  a  pardon 
more  easily  from.God,  than  it  may  be  he 
can  obtain  from  himself.  Since  then  there 
is  so  frequent  occasion  and  so  constant  a  be- 
nefit in  the  reiterating  and  repeating  our 
repentance,  and  so  manifest  danger  in  the 
delaying  it,  methinks  all  men  should  think 
it  mere  madness  to  put  it  off  an  hour;  and 
when  they  are  not  willing  that  any  benefit 
they  affect  in  this  world  should  be  deferred 
or  kept  back  from  them  an  hour,  they  should 
yet  defer  that,  which  must  make  their  pas- 
sage to,  and  their  station  in,  the  other  world 
miserable  above  or  beyond  the  most  fertile 
imagination:  and  as  men  who  are  to  travel 
through  »n  enemy's  country  cannot  be  too 
solicitous  and  scrupulous  in  examining  every 
clause  and  expression  in  their  pass,  and  that 
no  word  be  left  out  which  may  endanger 
their  security   in  their  journey,    nor   to« 


OF    REPENTANCE.  189 

punctual  in  observing  the  limits  and  re- 
straints and  conditions  included  therein, 
so  they  cannot  intently  and  industriously 
enough  consider  this  nnore  important  pass 
of  their  repentance,  which  must  conduct 
them  through  more  dangerous  and  intricate 
ways,  that  it  be  sincere,  and  not  'liable  to 
any  tergiversations,  nor  without  any  of  those 
marks  and  tokens  which  may  manifest  the 
veracity  of  it  to  others,  as  well  as  raise  a 
confidence  in  themselves  of  its  security:  nor 
can  they  use  too  much  diligence  to  raise 
this  confidence,  which  concerns  them  so 
much,  and  which,  above  all  the  indulgence 
and  encouragement  they  can  receive  from 
others,  can  only  make  their  journey  com- 
fortable to  themselves. 

Acknowledgment  is  not  a  circumstance, 
but  a  necessary  foundation  of  repentance: 
lie  that  doth  not  believe  he  hath  done  amiss, 
cannot  entertain  a  true  sorrow,  and  hath  less 
reason  to  repent;  and  if  he  doth  believe  it, 
he  must  acknowledge  it  before  he  can  truly 
repent.  This  Christian  duty,  this  essential 
and  inseparable  part  of  repentance,  must  be 
seriously  thought  upon  and  studied:  it  is  the 
scarecrow  that  frights  men  from  repentance, 
sets  up  honour  to  contest  with  conscience, 
u)d  makes  shame  so  impudent  as  to  contra- 


190  LORD   clarendon's  ESSAYS. 

diet  confession.  He  who  stoops  to  the  low- 
est and  the  basest  arts  and  actions  to  conoimit 
a  wickedness,  would  be  exempted  by  hon- 
our from  acknowledging  it;  and  he  that  can- 
not be  restrained  by  modesty  from  the  most 
impudent  transgressions,  would  be  absolved 
by  shame  from  making  any  confession  of  it; 
and  yet  will  not  have  it  doubted  but  that  he 
is  truly  penitent.  What  is  this  but  mocking 
God  Almighty,  and  hoping  to  get  into  heaven 
by  a  counterfeit  and  forged  pass,  which  will 
not  get  admittance  into  honourable  company, 
which  never  remits  an  injury  without  a  full 
acknowledgment  and  entreaty  of  forgive- 
ness? It  is  a  bare-faced  assertion,  owned 
and  urged  commonly  by  those,  who,  being 
by  ill  success  brought  to  the  brink  of  de- 
spair, carry  themselves  only  to  the  brink  of 
repentance;  that  repentance  is  an  act  of  the 
heart  towards  God  alone,  for  some  sin  com- 
mitted against  his  divine  Majesty,  and  a 
begging  of  his  pardon;  and  therefore  the 
acknowledging  that  sin  to  him  alone,  and  re- 
nouncing it  with  all  the  resolution  imagina- 
ble never  to  fall  into  the  like  again,  is  suffi- 
cient, and  need  not  be  attended  with  any 
public  acknowledgment;  which  would  only 
expose  them  to  the  scorn  and  reproach  of 
other  men.     It  may  be  so;  there  may  be 


OF    REPENTANCE.  191 

such  sins,  as  thoughts  and  purposes  of  the 
heart,  which  can  be  knoivn  only  to  God; 
and  it  may  be,  some  sinful  actions  too,  the 
acknowledgment  whereof,  particularly  to 
God  himself,  may  be  sufficient;  and  the  ac- 
knowledgment of  them  in  public,  how  inno- 
cently soever  intended,  may  be  little  less 
sinful,  than  the  entertaining  and  committing 
them.  There  are  thoughts  and  inclinations 
and  argumentations  of  the  heart,  which, 
though  subdued  and  repented,  may,  being 
communicated  to  others,  propagate  vice  in 
them,  with  the  exclusion  of  all  thoughts  of 
repentance;  and  the  very  commission  of 
some  sins  which  the  world  can  take  no  no- 
tice of,  would  be  much  aggravated  (though 
piously  repented  of)  by  a  public  acknow- 
ledgment, which,  in  many  respects,  and 
justly,  would  be  accompanied  with  shame 
and  reproach;  and  in  such  cases,  secret  and 
hearty  repentance  and  acknowledgment  to 
God  alone,  may  be  sufficient  to  procure  his 
pardon  and  absolution.  But  when  the  case 
is  not  of  this  nature,  nor  made  up  of  these 
circumstances;  when  the  sins  and  trans- 
gressions are  public  and  notorious;  when 
many  men  have  received  the  injury,  and 
undergone  the  damage  and  reproach;  when 
my  neighbour  hath  been  defrauded  by  my 


192  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

rapine  and  injustice,  or  traduced  by  my  slan- 
ders and  calumny;  the  acknowledgment  ought 
to  be  as  public  as  the  offence:  nor  can  a  se- 
cret confession  to  God  alone  constitute  his 
repentance,  when  others  are  injured,  though 
he  be  most  dishonoured;  and  we  may,  with- 
out breach  of  charity,  doubt  that  it  is  a  very 
faint  repentance,  that  hath  not  strength 
enough  to  come  into  the  air,  and  to  beg  par- 
don and  reconcilement  of  those  whom  the 
penitent  hath  offended.  1  rue  repentance 
is  a  very  severe  magistrate,  and  will  strip 
off  all  that  shelter  and  covering  which  would 
make  the  stripes  to  be  less  sensibly  felt,  and 
reckons  shame  an  essential  part  of  the  pun- 
ishmpnt.  it  is  a  rough  physician,  that 
draws  out  the  blood  that  inflames,  and  por- 
ges  out  the  humours  which  corrupt  or  an- 
noy the  vitals;  leaves  no  phlegm  to  cherish 
envy,  nor  no  choler  and  melancholy  to  engen- 
der pride;  and  will  rather  reduce  the  body  to 
a  skeleton,  than  suffer  those  pernicious  hu- 
mours to  have  a  source,  from  whence  they 
niay  abound  again  to  infest  the  body  or  the 
mind.  True  repentance  is  inspired  with  so 
much  humility,  that  it  fears  nothing  so  much 
as  to  receive  too  much  respect  or  counte- 
nance; and  is  glad  to  meet  with  men  as  proud 
and  cruel  as  those  sins  which  are  repented. 


OF    REPENTANCE.  193 

and  receives  reproach  and  shame  as  bracelets 
and  garlands  which  become  it.  They,  who 
will  not  willingl)'  acknowledge  to  those  per- 
sons who  have  been  injured  by  them,  that 
they  have  done  them  wrong,  have  made  but 
a  half  acknowledgment,  and  half  repentance 
to  God  himself;  have  not  put  in  that  security 
which  can  only  give  them  credit,  that  they 
will  not  do  the  same  again;  nor  laid  that  ob- 
ligation upon  themselves,  which  would  star- 
tle them  when  they  shall  be  about  to  do  it 
again.  Men  are  not  so  easily  tempted  to 
commit  the  same  offence  again,  and  to  the 
same  man,  which  they  have  before  commit- 
ted and  acknowledged  to  the  same  person; 
and  men  may  reasonably  doubt,  that  they 
will  not  only  be  inclined  to  do  the  same 
when  they  have  the  same  opportunity,  but 
that  they  resolve  to  do  it,  when  they  pre- 
tend to  repent,  and  refuse  to  acknowledge 
it:  nor  is  it  possible  for  any  man  who  is  peni- 
tent in  truth,  to  give  any  reasons  against 
this  acknowledgment,  which  will  not  bring 
a  great  blemish  upon  his  repentance,  and 
make  the  sincerity  thereof  to  be  justly 
doubted. 

Besides  the  discredit  which  this  want  of 
pai'ticular  acknowledgment  exposes  their  re- 
pentance to,  and  the  just  ground  it  adminis- 

VOL.    V.  30 


194  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

ters  to  suspect  the  truth  and  reahty  thereof, 
it  deprives  the  penitent  (if  we  may  so  call 
hira)  of  very  great  benefit  and  advantiige  he 
might  receive  thereby:  how  far  he  can  re- 
concile himself  to  heaven  without  it,  is  worth 
at  least  a  very  serious  doubt;  but  it  is  plain 
enough,  that  without  it,  a  reconciliation 
with  men,  which  is  very  desirable  by  all 
good  Christains,  is  absolutely  impossible. 
Acknowledgment  makes  all  accounts  even, 
often  satisfies  them,  and  stops  all  farther  de- 
mands; infallibly  it  prevents  the  asperity 
in  demanding;  without  it  the  debt  remains 
still,  with  the  anger  and  indignation  of  the 
creditor:  the  debt,  how  desperate  soever, 
is  due;  and  if  it  can  never  be  recovered,  it 
will  always  be  objected;  nor  is  there  apy 
other  way  to  raze  out  the  memory  of  it,  but  a 
free  remitting  it,  which  is  often  due  to  the  ac- 
knowledgment. Acts  of  state  and  indemnity 
may  extinguish  all  penalties  and  punishments 
to  be  inflicted  by  law,  for  faults  committed 
and  injuries  received;  and  acts  of  oblivion 
may  so  far  oblige  men  to  forget  the  injuries 
they  have  received,  as  neither  to  reproach  or 
upbraid  those  who  did  them,  or  to  require 
satisfaction  for  the  damage;  but  no  such 
acts,  nor  any  authority  under  heaven,  can 
take  away  the  obligation  of  repentance,  or 


UF    REPENTANCE.  195 

inhibit  acknowledgment,  which  is  a  branch 
of  repentance,  though  it  cannot  be  exacted 
by  any  earthly  tribunal.  He  that  performs 
this  acknowledgment,  and  hath  therewith 
made  his  repentance  perfect,  hath  made  his 
peace  with  God,  and  hath  done  his  part  to- 
wards doing  it  with  men;  and  if  it  be  refus- 
ed by  them,  he  hath  made  himself  superior 
or  at  least  so  equal  to  them,  that  his  former 
injustice  hath  not  so  evil  an  aspect  as  to 
fright  him,  and  they  who  were  injured  have 
only  gottea  an  argument  of  repentance.  If 
acknowledgment  bore  no  other  fruit  but  this, 
that  it  disburthens  the  breast  of  a  weight  that 
would  sink  it,  and  makes  men  stand  upon 
the  same  level  with  those  who  were  before 
superior  to  them;  that  it  makes  the  re- 
proaches which  were  before  due  to  them, 
turn  afterwards  to  be  guilt  in  the  re- 
proacher;  it  would  be  a  full  recompense 
for  any  pains  in  the  performance,  and  would 
pay  a  great  debt  with  a  little  money:  but 
when  the  thoughts  of  the  heart  can  only  be 
known  to  the  searcher  of  the  heart,  and 
there  is  an  evidence  due  to  men  of  the  in- 
tegrity of  the  heart,  especially  when  the 
malice  and  corruption  of  it  hath  been  too 
notorious;  men  owe  it  to  themselves,  to 
their  reputation,  to  their  peace  of  mind,  to 


196  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

make  their  sorrow  for  what  they  have  done 
amiss  as  manifest  as  the  worst  of  their  ac- 
tions have  been:  and  the  more  they  are  de- 
lighted with  their  repentance  (as  a  greater 
joy  and  dehght  there  cannot  be  in  this  world 
than  in  repentance),  the  more  delight  they 
take  in  full  and  frequent  acknowledgment  to 
those  whom   they  have  offended.     Repen- 
tance is  not  a  barren  tree,  that  bears  only 
leaves  for  shadow  and    repose;   but   a   tree 
that    "brings  forth   fruit    meet   for   repen- 
tance:" without  such  fruit  it  must  "be  hewn 
down  and  cast  into  the  fire,"   (Matt.    iii.   7, 
8.)  and  acknowledgment  is  the  least  precious 
fruit    it   can    bear.       Nothing  so   common 
amongst  persons  of  the  highest   quality  and 
degree,    when    death    approaches,    whose 
very  aspect  files  off  all  those  rough  and  un- 
smooth  appearances,  and  mortifies  all  haugh- 
ty  imagination  of  a  faculty    and  qualifica- 
tion to  do  wrong,  as  for  great  men  to  ac- 
knowledge and  ask  pardon  of  their  meanest 
servants,  whom  they  have  treated   unkindly; 
and  for  princes  themselves  to  confess  inju- 
ries they  have  done,  and  to  desire  forgive- 
ness of  their  poorest  subjects.     And  without 
doubt,  what  becomes  a  man  upon  his  death- 
bed, would  become  him  better  in  his  full  and 
perfect   health;  it   may  possibly  do  himself 


OF    REPENTANCE.  197 

good  then,  but  undoubtedly  it  would  not 
have  done  him  less  before,  and  his  example 
would  have  been  much  more  beneficial  to 
others. 

As  acknowledgment  is  necessary  with  re- 
ference to  persons,  so  it  is  no  less  with  refe- 
rence to  places;  they  who  have  taught  and 
published  any  doctrine  which  they  then 
thought  to  be  true,  and  have  since  been  con- 
vinced of  the  error  and  falsehood  of  it,  are 
bound  to  declare  in  the  same  places,  or  as 
publicly,  such  their  conviction;  and  to  take 
as  much  pains  to  convince  their  auditory  of 
the  error,  as  they  did  before  to  lead  them 
into  it.  And  this  is  an  ingenuity  becoming 
an  honest  man,  and  inseparable  from  repen- 
tance; and  the  greatest  charity  that  can  be 
showed  towards  those  who  renounce  such 
publication,  is,  to  believe  that  they  are  not 
sorry,  nor  repent  what  they  have  done;  and 
there  can  be  no  obligation  in  conscience  upon 
any  man  to  say  he  is  sorry  when  he  is  not 
sorry;  but  to  believe  that  he  doth  repent,  and 
yet  not  think  tit  to  acknowledge  that  he  doth 
so,  is  impossible.  They  who  have  preached 
sedition,  and  thereby  led  men  into  unwar- 
rantable actions  by  their  authority;  and  they 
who  have  printed  books,  and  by  arguments 
from  scripture  or  other  authority,  have  iim- 


198  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

posed  open  men's  understandings,  and  per- 
suaded men  to  believe  what  is  contrary  to 
scripture,  and  to  that  authority  which  they 
have  alleged,  and  are  in  their  consciences 
now  satistied  that  they  were  then  in  the 
wrong;  cannot  reasonably  believe  that  the 
asking  God  forgiveness  in  private,  and  ac- 
knowledging their  error  to  him,  is  enough  to 
constitute  a  Christian  repentance  that  works 
onto  salvation.  If  it  be  reasonable  to  be- 
lieve that  the  ill  which  we  learn  from  cor- 
rupt masters,  or  in  evil  conversation,  shall, 
though  not  excuse  us,  in  a  great  part  be  put 
upon  their  account  who  have  so  corrupted 
us,  it  must  needs  concern  those  instructors 
and  seducers,  to  do  the  best  they  can  to 
undo  the  mischief  they  have  done,  by  giving 
timely  notice  to  their  proselytes,  that  it  is 
not  safe  for  them  to  follow  that  advice  they 
have  given  them.  The  examples  of  great 
men,  and  the  discourses  of  men  eminent  for 
learning  and  piety,  have  in  all  ages  drawn 
many  into  the  same  actions  and  the  same 
opinions,  upon  no  other  account  than  their 
submission  to  their  authority  and  discourse; 
nor  in  truth  can  the  major  part  of  mankind 
propose  a  more  perfect  rule  to  walk  by,  than 
by  following  the  examples  of  men  reputed 
for  persons  of  honor  and  integrity  in  their 


OF     REPENTANCE.  199 

actions,  and  submitting  their  understandings, 
in  matters  of  opinion,  to  the  direction  of 
those  who  are  eminent  for  learning,  judg- 
ment, and  sanctity;  and  Reason  (which  is 
the  goddess  all  men  now  sacritice  to)  hath 
done  its  full  office,  when  it  hath  convinced 
them  that  it  is  most  reasonable  so  to  do. — 
They  therefore,  who  find  themselves  pos- 
sessed of  this  sovereign  authority,  though 
they  do  not  affect  it,  and  have  it  only  by  the 
voluntary  resignation  of  those  who  will  be 
so  governed,  had  need  to  take  the  more  care 
what  they  say  and  what  they  do;  and  as  soon 
as  they  know  they  have  said  or  done  amiss, 
they  are  obliged  in  conscience  to  make  it 
known  to  those,  who  they  have  reason  to 
believe  were  led  by  them.  A  man  who 
hath  heard  a  doctrine  preached  by  a  man 
whose  learning.he  believed  to  be  very  great, 
and  his  integrity  equal  to  his  learning,  or 
hath  seen  a  sermon  printed,  and  retains  his 
reverence  for  him,  which  he  hath  reason  to 
do  after  he  is  dead,  and  is  as  much  swayed 
by  his  authority  as  if  he  were  still  alive; 
such  a  man  is  plainly  betrayed,  if  this  preach* 
er  changed  his  opinion,  repented  that  he 
ever  preached  that  doctrine,  and  kept  his 
repentance  to  himself,  and  concealed  it  from 
any  of  those  who  were  misled  and  seduce^l 


200  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

by  him.  Methinks,  after  St.  Austin's  exam- 
ple, men  should  not  be  ashamed  of  retrac- 
tions; nor  could  his  example  operate  so  little, 
if  they  were  endued  with  his  precious  spirit 
of  recollection  and  repentance. 

There  is  another  branch  of  repentance, 
which  it  may  be  is  more  grievous  than  that 
of  acknowledgment,  which  is  reparation;  an 
inseparable  ingredient  and  effect  of  repeo- 
tance:  which  needs  startle  men  the  less,  be- 
cause conscience  never  obliges  men  to  im- 
possibilities. He  that  hath  stolen  more  than 
he  is  worth,  is  in  the  same  condition  with 
him  who  hath  borrovted  more  than  he  can 
pay;  a  true  and  hearty  desire  to  restore  is 
and  ought  to  be  received  as  satisfaction:  "If 
the  wicked  restore  the  pledge,  give  again 
that  he  had  robbed,  walk  in  the  statutes  of 
life  without  committing  iniquity,  he  shall 
surely  live,  he  shall  not  die,"  (Ezek.  xxxiii. 
15.)  Robbery  and  violence  would  be  too 
gainful  a  trade,  if  a  man  might  quit  all  scores 
by  repentance,  and  detain  all  he  hath  gotten; 
or  if  the  father's  repentance  might  serve  the 
turn,  and  the  benefit  of  the  transgression  be 
transmitted  as  an  inheritance  to  the  son.  If 
the  pledge  remain,  it  must  be  restored;  the 
retaining  it  is  committing  a  new"  iniquity,  and 
forfeits  any  benefit  of  the  promise;  if  he  hath 


OF  REPENTANCE.  201 

it  not,  nor  is  able  to  procure  it,  his  hearty 
repentance  is  enough  without  reparation: 
but  to  enjoy  and  to  look  every  day  upon  the 
spoiU  and  yet  to  profess  repentance,  is  an 
affront  to  God  Almighty,  and  a  greater  sin 
than  the  first  act  of  violence,  when  he  did 
not  pretend  to  think  of  him,  and  so  did  not 
think  of  displeasing  him:  whereas  now  he 
pretends  to  reconcile  himself  to  God,  and 
mocks  him  with  repentance,  whilst  he  re- 
tains the  fruit  of  his  wickedness  with  the 
same  pleasure  he  committed  it.  He  who  is 
truly  penitent,  restores  what  he  hathieft  to 
the  person  that  was  deprived  of  it,  and  pays 
the  rest  in  devout  sorrow  for  his  trespass. — 
It  is  a  weak  and  a  vain  imagination,  to  think 
that  a  man  who  hath  been  in  rebellion,  and " 
thereby  robbed  any  man  of  his  goods  of  what 
kind  soever,  and  is  sorry  for  it,  can  pacify 
God  for  his  rebellion,  and  keep  those  goods 
still  to  himself,  without  the  true  owner's 
consent:  he  ought  to  restore  them,  though 
the  other  doth  not  ask  them,  or  know  where 
they  are.  Nor  is  his  case  better,  who  en- 
joys them  by  purchase  or  gift,  or  exchange 
from  another  man,  without  having  himself 
any  part  or  share  in  the  rapine,  if  he  knows 
that  they  were  unjustly  taken,  and  do  of 
right  belong  to  another;  he  is  bound  to  re- 


202  LORD  clarendon's  essats. 

store  them.  Nor  is  a  third  excuse  bettfif 
than  the  other  two;  I  was  myself  robbed  by 
others,  and  am  no  gainer  by  what  I  have 
taken,  but  have  only  repaired  what  was  one 
way  or  another  taken  from  me:  which  would 
not  be  just,  if  I  had  robbed  the  same  person 
who  robbed  me,  except  1  could  rescue  my 
own  goods  again  out  of  his  hands;  and  jus- 
tice will  not  allow  that,  by  any  act  of  vio- 
lenee,  because  I  cannot  be  judge  in  my  own 
interest:  but  to  take  what  belongs  to  anoth- 
er man,  because  I  know  not  who  hath  done 
the  like  to  me,  is  so  contrary  to  all  the  ele- 
ments of  equity,  that  no  man  can  pretend  to 
repent  and  to  believe  it  together.  Instead  of 
restoring  the  pledge,  to  hug  it  every  day  in 
my  arms  and  take  delight  in  it,  whilst  it  may 
be  the  true  owner  wants  it,  or  dares  not  de- 
mand it,  is  a  manifest  evidence  that  I  think  I 
do  not  stand  in  need  of  the  pardon  the  pro- 
phet pronounces;  or  that  I  believe  1  can  obtain 
it  another  way,  and  upon  easier  conditions. 
And,  indeed,  if  it  could  fall  into  a  man's  na- 
tural conception  or  imagination  how  n  man 
can  think  it  possible  to  be  absolved  from  the 
payment  of  a  debt  which  he  doth  not  ac- 
knowledge to  be  due,  nor  pretend  to  be  wil- 
ling to  pay  if  he  were  able;  or  how  a  man 
(Jan  hope  to  procure  a  release  for  a  tres- 


•F    REPENTANCE.  203 

pass,  when  he  is  able  pay  the  damage,  or 
some  part  thereof,  yet  obstinately  refuses  to 
do  it  at  the  time  he  desires  the  release;  the- 
condition  and  obstinacy  would  be  the  less 
admirable.  It  is  natural  enough  for  power- 
ful and  proud  oppressors  not  to  ask  pardon 
for  an  injury,  which  they  to  whom  it  is  done 
cannot  call  to  justice  for;  and  for  a  despe- 
rate bankrupt  not  to  ask  a  release  from  a  man, 
who  hath  no  evidence  of  the  debt  which  he 
claims,  or  means  to  recover  it,  if  it  were  con- 
fessed: but  to  confess  so  much  weakness  as 
to  beg  and  sue  for  a  pardon,  and  to  have 
so  much  impudence  and  folly  as  not  (o 
perform  the  condition,  without  which  the 
pardon  is  void  and  of  no  effect;  to  ride 
upon  the  same  horse  to  the  man  from  whom 
he  stole  it,  and  desire  his  release  without  so 
much  as  oflFering  to  restore  it,  is  such  a  circle 
of  brutish  madness,  that  it  cannot  fall  into 
the  mind  of  man  endowed  with  reason, 
though  void  /of  religion.  Therefore  it  can- 
not be  aj  breach  of  charity  to  believe 
that  men  of  that  temper,  who  pretend  to 
be  sorry  and  to  repent  the  having  done 
that  which  they  find  not  safe  to  justify, 
and  yet  retain  to  themselves  the  full  bene- 
fit of  their  unrighteousness,  do  not  in  truth 
believe  that  they    did   amiss;    and   so    are 


£04  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

no  otherwise  sorxy  than  men  are  who  have 
lost  their  labour,  and  repent  only  that  they 
ventured  so  much  for  so  little  profit:  where- 
as if  they  felt  any  compunction  of  con- 
science, which  is  but  a  preparation  to  re- 
pentance, they  would  remember  any  suc- 
cess they  had  in  their  wickedness,  as  a 
bitter  judgment  of  God  upon  them,  and 
would  run  from  what  they  have  got  by  it, 
as  from  a  strong  enemy  that  encloses  and 
shuts  them  up,  that  repentance  may  not 
enter  into  their  hearts. 

There  is  another  kind  of  reparation, 
and  restitution,  that  is  a  child  of  repen- 
tance; a  fruit  that  repentance  cannot  choose 
but  bear;  which  is,  repairing  a  man's  re- 
putation, restoring  his  good  name,  which  he 
hath  taken  or  endeavoured  to  take  from 
him  by  calumnies  and  slanders:  which  is  a 
greater  robbery  than  plundering  a  man's 
house,  or  robbing  him  of  his  goods.  If 
the  tongue  be  sharp  enough  to  give  wounds, 
it  must  be  at  the  charge  of  balsam  to  put 
into  them;  not  only  such  as  will  heal  the 
wound,  but  such  as  will  wipe  out  the  scar, 
and  leave  no  mark  behind  it.  Nor  will 
private  acknowledgment  to  the  person  in- 
jured, be  any  manifestation  or  evidence  of 
repentance;    fear   may    produce    that,    out 


OF    REPENTANCE.  205 

of  apprehension  of  chastisement;  or  good 
husbandry  may  dispose  a  man  to  it,  to 
,  avoid  the  payment  of  great  damages  by  the 
direction  of  justice  and  tlie  law:  but  true 
repentance  issues,  out  of  a  higher  court, 
and  is  not  satisfied  with  submitting  to  the 
censures  of  public  authority;  but  inflicts 
greater  penalties  than  a  common  judge  can 
do,  because  it  hath  a  clearer  view  and  pros- 
pect into  the  nature  of  the  offence,  dis- 
cerns the  malice  of  the  heart,  and  every 
circumstance  in  the  committing,  and  applies 
a  plaister  proportionable  to  the  wound  and 
to  the  scar.  If  the  calumny  hath  been 
raised  in  a  whisper,  and  been  afterwards 
divulged  without  the  advice  or  privity  of  the 
calumniator,  it  sends  him  in  pursuit  of  that 
whisper,  and  awards  him  to  vindicate  the 
injured  person  in  all  places,  and  to  all  per- 
sons who  have  heen  infected  by  it;  if  it 
hath  been  vented  originally  in  defamatory 
writings,  which  have  wrought  upon  and 
perverted  more  men,  than  can  be  better 
informed  by  any  particular  applications  how 
ingenuously  soever  made,  it  obliges  men  to 
write  volumes,  till  the  recognition  be  as 
public  and  notorious  as  the  defamation;  and 
it  uses  the  same  rigour,  awards  the  same 
Satisfaction,    upon    any    other   violation    of 


206  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

truth,  by  which  men  have  been  seduced 
or  misled:  whilst  the  poor  penitent  is  so 
far  from  murmuring  or  repining  at  the  se- 
verity of  his  penance,  that  he  still  fears  it 
is  not  enough,  that  it  is  too  light  a  punish- 
ment to  expiate  his  transgression,  and 
would  gladly  undergo  even  more  than  he 
can  bear,  out  of  the  aversion  he  hath  to  the 
deformity  of  his  guilt,  and  the  glimmering 
prospect  he  hath  of  that  happiness,  which 
only  the  sincerity  of  his  repentance  can 
bring  him  to:  he  abhors  and  detesta  that 
heraldry,  which  for  honour  sake  would  di- 
vert or  obstruct  his  most  humble  acknowl- 
edgement to  the  poorest  person  he  hath  of- 
fended; and  would  gladly  exchange  all  his 
titles  and  his  trappings,  for  the  rags  and  in- 
nocence of  the  poorest  beggar.  Repen- 
tance is  a  magistrate  that  exacts  the  strictest 
duty  and  humility,  because  the  reward  it 
gives  is  inestimable  and  everlasting;  and  the 
pain  and  punishment  it  redeems  men  from, 
is  of  the  same  continuance,  and  yet  intolera- 
ble. 

There  are  two  imaginations  or  fancies 
(for  opinions  they  cannot  be)  which  insinu- 
ate themselves  into  the  minds  of  men,  who 
do  not  love  to  think  of  their  own  desperate 
condition.     One  is,  that  a  general  asking  God 


OP  KEPENTANCB.  207 

forgiveness  for  all  the  sins  he  bath  commit- 
ed,  without  charging  his  memory  with 
mentioning  the  particulars,  is  a  sufficient  re- 
pentance to  procure  God's  pardon  for  them 
all:  the  other,  that  a  man  may  heartily  re- 
pent the  having  committed  one  particular 
sin,  and  thereupon  obtain  God's  favour'  and 
forgiveness,  though  be  practises  other  sins, 
which  he  believes  are  not  so  grievous,  and 
so  defers  the  present  repentance  of;  that  if 
he  hath  committed  a  murder,  he  can  re- 
pent that,  and  resolve  never  to  do  the  like 
again,  and  thereupon  obtain  his  pardon, 
and  yet  retain  his  inclination  to  other  ex- 
cesses. Which  two  kinds  of  suggestion  are 
so  gross  and  ridiculous  (if  any  thing  can 
be  called  ridiculous  that  hath  relation  to 
repentance),  that  no  man  is  so  impudent  as 
to  own  them,  though  in  truth  some  modern 
casuists  are  not  far  from  teaching  the  for- 
mer; yet  if  we  descend  into  ourselves,  make 
that  strict  scrutiny  and  inquisition  into  eve- 
ry corner  of  our  hearts,  as  true  repentance 
doth  exact  from  us,  and  will  see  performed 
by  us,  we  shall  find  and  must  confess,  that 
they  are  these,  and  such  like  trivial  and  la- 
mentable imaginations,  which  make  us  so 
unwary  in  all  our  actions,  so  uncircum- 
spect  throughout  the  (Tourse  of  our  lives, 


208  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

and  are  the  cause  that  in  a  whole  nation  of 
transcendent  offenders,  there  are  so  very 
few  who  become  true  penitents,  or  manifest 
their  repentance  by  those  signs  and  marks 
with  which  it  is  always  and  cannot  but  be 
attended. 

God  forbid,  that  death-bed  repentance 
should  not  do  us  good, or  that  death  should  ap- 
proach towards  any  man  who  is  without 
repentance;  he  who  recollects  himself  best 
before,  will  have  work  enough  for  re- 
pentance in  the  last  minute;  and  it  is  pos- 
sible, and  but  possible,  that  he  who  hath 
never  recollected  himself  before,  may 
have  the  grace  to  repent  so  cordially  then, 
and  make  such  a  saving  reflection  upon  all 
the  sins  of  his  life,  though  he  hath  neither 
time  nor  memory  to  number  them,  that  he 
may  obtain  a  full  remission  of  them.  Re- 
pentance indeed  is  so  strong  a  balsam,  that 
one  drop  of  it  put  into  the  most  noisome 
wound  perfectly  cures  it.  But  that  men, 
who  cannot  but  observe  how  a  little  pain  or 
sickness  indisposes  and  makes  them  unfit  for 
any  transaction;  who  know  how  often  the 
torment  of  the  gout  in  the  least  joint,  or  a 
sudden  pang  of  the  stone,  l^ath  distracted 
them  even  in  the  most  solemn  and  premedi- 
tated exercise  of  devotion,  that  they  have 


OF    REPENTANCE.  209 

retained  no  gesture  or  word  fit  for  that 
sacrifice;  I  say,  it  is  very  strange  tluit  any 
such  man,  who  hath  himself  undergone,  or 
seen  others  undergo,  such  visitations,  should 
believe  it  possible  that  upon  his  death- 
bed, in  that  agony  of  pain,  in  those  inward 
convulsions,  strugglings,  and  torments  of  dis- 
solution, which  are  the  usual  forerunners 
and  messengers  of  death,  or  can  presume 
upon,  or  hope  for  such  a  composure  of 
mind  and  memory  in  that  melancholy  season, 
as  to  recollect  and  reflect  upon  all  those 
particulars  of  his  mispent  life,  as  his  depart- 
ing soul  must  within  a  few  minutes  give  an 
account,  a  very  exact  account  of;  and  there- 
fore it  cannot  be  otherwise,  and  how  much 
soever  we  disclaim  the  assertion,  we  are  in 
truth  so  foolish  as  to  be  imposed  upon  by 
that  pleasant  imagination,  that  there  goes 
much  less  to  repentance  than  severe  men 
would  persuade  us,  and  that  a  very  short 
time,  and  as  short  an  ejaculation,  which 
shall  be  very  hearty,  and  which  we  still 
think  so  much  of  in  our  intentions  that  we  are 
sure  we  cannot  forget  them,  will  serve  our 
turn,  and  will  carry  us  fairly  out  of  this 
world,  and  leave  a  very  good  re})ort  of  our 
Christianity  with  the  standers-by,  who  will 
give  a  fair  testimony,  if  we  did  not  think 
vol..  V.  31  «  .^x. 


210  LORD    clarendon's    ESSAYS. 

this,  or  did  not  think  at  all,  which  yet  it 
may  be  is  better  than  thinking  this,  we  should 
not  spend  our  time  as  we  do,  commit  so  ma- 
ny follies  and  wickednesses,  and  give  no  cause 
to  the  most  charitable  man  to  believe  that 
we  are  in  any  degree  sorry  for  either,  when 
he  sees  us  so  constantly  practise  both,  and 
live  as  we  did  really  think  that  we  are  only 
to  account  for  the  last  moment  of  our  life, 
and  therefore  that  it  is  enough  if  we  provide 
that  that  shall  be  commendable  and  full  of 
devotion. 

The  other  as  extravagant  imagination, 
that  a  man  may  repent  so  heartily  one  par- 
ticular sin,  that  he  may  be  well  satisfied  that 
God  hath  accepted  his  humiliation  and  seal- 
ed his  pardon,  and  yet  retain  and  practice 
some  other  sins,  of  whose  iniquity  he  is 
not  yet  thoroughly  convinced,  or  of  which 
he  takes  farther  time  to  repent,  hath  got- 
ten so  much  credit  with  many  of  us,  who 
are  willing  to  persuade  other  men,  and  it 
may  be  ourselves,  that  we  do  heartily  de- 
test and  abominate  some  sin  we  have  for- 
merly practised,  and  have  cordially  repent- 
ed it,  though  we  do  too  much  indulge 
some  other  natural  infirmity,  which  leads 
us  into  great  transgressions  of  another  kind. 
If  nothing  of  this  argumentation  did  prevail 


OF    REPENTANCE.  211 

upon  US,  we  could  not  at  the  same  time  pre- 
tend to  have,  with  a  grievous  sense  of  ourguilt, 
repented  our  rebellion,  or  any  such  act  of 
outrage,  and  have  washed  our  souls  clean 
from  that  sin  with  our  tears,  when  yet  we 
retain  our  ambition,  and  have  the  same  im- 
patient appetite  for  preferment  that  we  had 
before,  and  which  it  may  be  led  us  into  that 
rebellion;  that  we  have  thoroughly  repent- 
ed every  act  of  oppression  that  we  have 
committed,  though  we  have  still  avarice  and 
desire  to  be  rich,  that  hath  not  left  us.  It 
may  be,  the  practice  of  repentance  hath  not 
been  more  obstructed  by  any  thing,  than  by 
the  customary  discourse,  and  the  senseless 
distinction,  of  true  and  false,  perfect  and  im- 
perfect repentance;  whereas,  if  it  be  not 
true  and  perfect,  it  is  not  repentance;  if  it 
be  not  as  it  should  be,  it  is  not  at  all. 
There  are  indeed  many  preparations,  many- 
approaches  towards  it,  which,  well  entered 
upon  and  pursued,  will  come  to  repentance 
at  last;  there  must  be  recollection,  and  there 
must  be  sorrow,  and  sorrow  stretched  to  the 
utmost  extent,  before  it  can  arrive  at  repen- 
tance; and  it  must  be  repentance  itself,  none 
of  those  preparatives,  that  must  carry  us  to 
heaven;  and  that  repentance  is  no  more  ca- 
pable of  enlargement  and  diminution,  than 


212  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

the  joys  of  heaven  are,  which  are  sfill  the 
same,  neither  more  nor  less.  If  we  do  re- 
pent any  one  sin  we  have  committed,  we  can 
have  no  more  inclination  to  commit  any 
other,  of  hov/  different  a  kind  soever  from 
the  other,  than  we  could  desire,  if  we  were 
iii  heaven,  to  return  to  the  earth  again;  it  is 
sin  itself,  in  all  the  several  species  of  it,  in 
all  the  masks  and  disguises  that  it  hath  ever 
presented  itself  to  us  in,  which  we  detest, 
if  we  are  arrived  at  repentance. 

And  because,  as  hath  been  said  before, 
we  cannot  make  too  strict  a  scrutiny  into 
our  own  actions,  nor  take  too  much  care  in 
the  compounding  this  precious  cordial  that 
must  revive  us  and  make  us  live  after  we 
are  dead,  we  shall  do  well  frequently  to 
confer  with  pious  men  upon  the  most  pro- 
per expedients  to  advance  this  duty  in  us; 
and  because  exam|'les  are  more  powerful 
motives  towards  any  perfection  than  pre- 
cepts, we  cannot  do  better  than  recollect  as 
many  of  those  as  our  own  experience,  or 
histories  of  uncontroverted  veracity,  or  the 
observation  of  other  men,  can  suggest  to  us; 
that  by  observing  the  steps  they  made  to- 
wards it,  and  the  manifestation  they  gave  of  it, 
we  may  the  better  comport  ourselves  to- 
wards the  attaining  our  end,  and  the  assar- 


i 


OF    REPENTANCE.  213 

ance  that  we  have  attained  it:   and   having 
forsome  years li'^ed  in  a  country,  where  there 
is  as  great  evidence  of  sins  committed,   and 
as  httle  of  repentance  as  in  any  other  coun- 
try; and  having  met  with  there  a  rare  exam- 
ple of   this   kind,   and  so   much   the    more 
rare  as  it  is  in  a  person  of  the  most  illustri- 
ous family  in  France,  the  house  of  the  king 
himself,  and  a  thing  so  known  that  there  is  no 
room  to  doubt  the  truth  thereof;  I  thjnk  it  ve- 
ry pertinent  to  the  design  of  this  short  dis- 
course, to  insert  so  much  of  it  as  to  my  under- 
standing  may    exceedingly    work  upon  the 
minds  of  other  men:  the  person  is  the  prince  of 
Conti,   younger   brother  to   the   prince    of 
Cond^,  next  prince  of  the  blood  to  the  chil- 
dren of  the  crown,  and  to  the  king's  own 
brother,   who   died   in   the  year    1664,  in 
Paris.      This  prince  having  great  endow- 
ments of  mind,   but  educated  in  all  the  li- 
cence of  that  nation,  and  corrupted  with  the 
greatest  license  of  it,  some  years  before  bis 
death  had  the  blessing  to  make  severe  reflec- 
tions upon  the  past  actions  of  his  life;  and 
thereupon  imposed  upon  himself  great  strict- 
ness and  rigour,  in  a  notorious  retirement 
from  the  court,  in  the  conversation  of  the  most 
pious  and  devout  men,  and  in  the  exercise  of 
all  those  actions  of  devotion  which  become  a 
Christian  resolution,  m  the  faith  in  which 


214  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

he  had  been  educated;  and  being  in  perfect 
health,  but  well  knowing  by  the  ill  struc- 
ture of  his  body  that  he  could  not  live,  the 
crookedness  and  stooping  of  his  head  and 
shoulders  making  his  respiration  very  diffi- 
cult, and  increasing,  suffocated  him,  he 
made  his  last  will,  beginning  in  these 
words:  "This  day,  the  24th  of  May,  1664, 
I,  Armand  de  Bourbon,  prince  of  Conti, 
being  in  my  house  in  Paris,  sound  in  body 
and  mind,  and  not  willing  to  be  surprised  by 
death  without  making  my  will,  do  make  this 
my  present  testament."  And  then  making 
that  profession  of  his  religion,  and  disposing 
his  soul  in  that  manner  as  becomes  a  pio,us 
man  in  that  church,  whereof  he  was  a  very 
zealous  member,  he  enters  upon  the  dispo- 
sal of  his  estate,  and  used  these  words: 
"I  am  extremely  sorry  to  have  been  so 
unhappy  as  to  find  myself  in  my  younger 
age  engaged  in  a  war  contrary  to  my  duly; 
during  which  I  permitted,  ordered,  and 
authorized  violences  and  disorders  without 
number;  and  although  the  king  hath  had 
the  goodness  to  forget  this  failing,  1  remain 
nevertheless  justly  accountable  before  God 
to  those  corporations  and  particular  per- 
sons, who  then  suffered,  be  it  in  Guienne, 
Xantoinge,  Berry,   la   Marche,   be    it    in 


OF  REPENTANCE.  215 

Champaigne,  and  about  Damvilliers;  upon 
which  account  1  have  caused  certain  sums 
to  be  restored,  of  which  the  Sieur  Jasse,  my 
treasurer,  hath  a  particular  knoivledge; 
and  I  have  passionately  desired  that  it  were 
in  my  power  to  sell  all  my  estate,  that  I 
might  give  a  more  full  satisfaction.  But 
having  upon  this  occasion  submitted  my- 
self to  the  judgment  of  many  prelates  and 
learned  and  pious  persons,  they  have  judged 
that  I  was  not  obliged  to  reduce  myself  alto- 
gether to  the  condition  of  a  private  man,  but 
that  I  ought  to  serve  God  in  my  rank  and  qua- 
lity; in  which  nevertheless  I  have  withdrawn 
as  much  as  was  possible  from  my  household 
expenses,  to  the  end  that,  during  my  life,  I 
may  restore  every  year  as  much  as  I  can 
save  of  my  revenues  And  I  charge  my 
heirs,  who  shall  hereafter  be  named  in  this 
my  will,  to  do  the  same  thing,  until  the 
damages  that  I  have  caused  be  fully  repair- 
ed, according  to  the  instructions  which  shall 
be  found  in  the  hands  of  the  Sieur  Jasse, 
or  in  my  papers.  To  this  end,  I  desire 
the  executors  of  my  will,  and  her  who 
shall  be  entrusted  with  the  education  of 
my  children,  to  reduce  and  moderate,  as 
much  as  may  be,  their  expenses,  that  the 
foresaid  restitutions  may  be  continued  everv 


S16  LORD  clarendon's  essats. 

year,  according  to  my  orders.  And  if  it 
happen  that  my  heirs  and  their  issue  have, 
either  from  the  bounty  of  the  king,  or  by 
any  other  vvay,  riches  enough  to  maintain 
them  handsomely,  I  will  and  order  that  they 
sell  all  the  estate  .which  they  enjoy  as  being 
my  successors;  and  that  they  distribute  the 
price  of  it  amongst  those  provinces,  and  in 
those  places,'  "which  have  suffered  on  the 
account  of  the  said  wars,  following  the  or- 
ders contained  in  the  said  instructions,  if 
the  said  places  or  persons  have  not  been 
already  sufficiently  repaid  by  me,  or  by 
some  other.  And  if  it  fall  out  that  my 
children  die  without  issue,  so  that  my  line 
be  extinct,  I  intend  likewise  that  my  estate 
be  sold,  for  to  be  wholly  employed  in  the 
said  restitutions,  my  collateral  friends  hav- 
ing enough  elsewhere. 

"I  desire  that  those  papers  which  shall 
be  found,  writ  or  signed  with  my^  hand, 
concerning  affairs  where  I  have  doubted, 
if  in  point  of  conscience  I  were  obliged 
to  a  restitution  or  not,  be  very  carefully 
and  rigorously  examined;  the  which  I  pray 
my  executors  moreover,  if  it  be  found  by 
notes  written  or  signed  with  my  hand, 
that  I  have  verified  or  acknowledged  my- 
self to   be    obUged    to    any   restitution   or 


OF    REPENTANCE.  217 

satisfaction  whatever,  I  desire  that  they 
may  be  executed,  as  if  every  particular 
thing  contained  in  them  was  expressly  or- 
dered by  this  present  will."  'Then  he 
commits  the  education  of  his  children  (whom 
he  makes  his  heirs)  to  his  wife,  and  desires 
the  parliament  of  Paris  to  contirm  her  in 
the  tuition  of  his  children;  and  then  names 
his  executors,  who  upon  his  decease  are  to 
become  possessed  of  all  his  estate  to  the 
purposes  aforesaid,  and  so  signs  the  will  with 
his  hand  the  4th  of  May,  1664, 

Armande  de  Bourbon. 
His  paper  of  instructions  was  Ukewise 
published  with  his  will,  that  so  the  per- 
sons concerned  might  know  to  whom  to 
repair.  The  words  are  these:  "The  or- 
der which  I  desire  may  be  observed  in  the 
restitution  which  I  am  obliged  to  make  in 
Guienne,  Xantoinge,  la  Marche,  Berry, 
Champaigne,  and  Damvilliers,  &c.  In  the 
first  place,  those  losses  and  damages  which 
have  been  caused  by  my  orders  or  my 
troops  ought  to  be  repaired  before  all  oth- 
ers, as  being  of  my  own  doing.  In  the 
second  place,  I  am  responsible,  very  justly, 
for  all  the  mischiefs  which  the  general  dis- 
orders of  the  war  have  produced,  although 
they  have   been  done    without  my  having 


218  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

any  part  in  them,  provided  that  I  have  sa- 
tisfied for  the  tirat.  1  owe  no  reparation  to 
those  who  have  been  of  our  party,  except 
they  can  make  it  appear  tijat  1  have  sought 
and  invited  them  to  it;  and  in  this  case,  it 
will  be  just  to  restore  first  of  all  to  those 
innocent  persons  who  have  had  no  part  in 
my  failings,  before  that  any  thing  can  be 
given  to  those  who  have  been  our  confede- 
rates: the  better  to  observe  this  distributive 
justice,  I  desire  that  my  restitutions  may  be 
made  in  such  a  manner,  that  they  may  be 
spread  every  where;  to  the  end  that  it  fall 
not  out,  that  amongst  many  that  have  suffer- 
ed, some  be  satisfied  and  others  have 
nothing.  But  since  I  have  not  riches 
enough  for  to  repay  at  one  time  all  those 
corporations  and  particular  persons  who 
have  suffered,  I  desire,  &,c."  and  so  decreed 
the  method  and  order  the  payments  should 
be  made  in;  the  whole  of  which,  by  his 
computation,  would  be  discharged  in  twenty 
years;  but  if  it  so  fell  out,  that  the  estate 
should  be  entirely  sold,  the  whole  payment 
was  to  be  made  at  once;  and  it  was  a  mar- 
vellous recollection  of  particular  oppres- 
sions, which  he  conceived  might  have  been 
put  upon  his  tenants  by  his  officers,  some 
whereof  were  not  remediable    by  law,  by 


OF    REPENTANCE.  219 

reason  of  prescription,  which  he  declared 
that  he  would  not  be  defended  by,  but  ap" 
pointed  that  the  original  right  should  be 
strictly  examined;  and  if  his  possession 
was  founded  in  wrong,  he  disclaimed  the 
prescription,  and  commanded  that  satisfac- 
tion should  be  made  to  those  who  had  been 
injured,  even  by  his  ancestors,  and  before 
his  own  time;  and  required,  that  any  doubts 
which  might  arise  upon  any  of  his  instructions, 
or  in  the  cases  in  which  he  intended  satisfac- 
tion should  be  given,  might  and  should  be  ex- 
amined and  judged  by  men  of  the  strictest  and 
most  rigid  justice,  and  not  by  men  of  loose 
principles. 

I  do  not  naturally,  in  discourses  of  this 
nature,  delight  in  so  large  excursions  in  the 
mention  of  particular  actions  performed  by 
men,  how  godly  and  exemplary  soever,  be- 
cause the  persons  who  do  them  are  always 
without  any  desire  that  what  they  do  should 
be  made  public,  and  because  repentance 
hatii  various  operations  in  minds  equally  vir- 
tuous: yet  meeting  very  accidentally  with 
this  record,  without  having  scarce  ever 
heard  it  mentioned  by  any  man  in  the  coun- 
try, where  there  is  room  enough  for  prose- 
lytes of  the  same  nature,  and  cause  enough 
to  celebrate  the  example,  as  I  took  great  de- 


220  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

light  in  examining  and  re-examining  every 
particular,  and  not  being  an  absolute  stranger 
to  the  subject  reflected  upon,  having  been 
present  in  the  same  country  at  that  time,  I 
could  not  conclude  this  discourse  more  per- 
tinently, than  with  such  an  instance  at  large; 
presuming  that  it  may  make  the  same  im- 
pression upon  others  that  it  hath  upon  me, 
and  make  us  the  more  solicitous  to  call  our- 
selves to  an  account  for  all  commissions,  and 
to  pray  to  God  to  give  us  the  grace  to  repent 
-in  such  a  way,  and  to  such  a  degree,  as  may 
be  most  for  his  glory,  our  own  salvation,  and 
the  edification  of  others  towards  the  attain- 
ing the  same. 


XIX.    OF    CONSCIENCE. 

MoDtpellier,  March  9,  1070. 

There  is  not  throughout  the  whole  bible 
of  the  Old  Testament,  that  term  or  word. 
Conscience,  to  be  found;  nor  is  it  used  in 
Scripture  till  the  eighth  chapter  of  the  gos- 
pel written  by  St.  John,  when  the  Jews 
brought  the  woman  that  had  been  taken  in 
adultery  before  our  Saviour,  whom  they  im- 
portuned to  do  justice  upon  her;  and  he, 
who  knew  their  malice   was  more   against 


OF    CONSCIENCE.  221 

him  than  the  woman,  said,  "He  that  is  with-'^ 
oul  sin  amongst  you,  let  him  first  cast  a  stone 
at  her:  and  they  which  heurd  it,  being  con- 
victed by  their  own  conscience,  went  out 
one  by  one,  beginning  at  tlie  eldest  oven  to 
the  last,"  (ver.  7,  9.)  Nor  is  the  Greek 
word  avtiUnrts,  which  throughout  the  New 
Testament  srgnities  conscience,  ever  used 
by  the  Septuagint,  (as  some  learned  men 
affirm)  except  only  in  the  10th  chapter  of 
Ecclesiastes,  ver.  20,  which  is  thus  translat- 
ed, "Curse  not  the  king,  no  not  in  thy 
thought/'  So  that  conscience  seems  to  be 
the  proper  and  natural  issue  of  the  Gospel, 
which  introduced  a  stricter  survey  of  the 
heart  of  man,  and  a  more  severe  inquisition 
into  the  thoughts  thereof,  than  the  law  had 
done.  He  who  could  not  be  accused  by 
sufficient  witnesses  to  have  violated  the  law, 
was  thought  to  be  innocent  enough;  but  the 
Gospel  erected  another  judicatory,  and  an- 
other kind  of  examination,  and  brought  men 
who  could  not  be  charged  by  the  law,  to  be 
convicted  by  their  own  conscience;  and 
therefore  St.  Paul,  in  his  justification  before 
Felix,  after  he  had  denied  all  that  the  Jews 
had  charged  him  with,  and  affirmed  that  he 
had  broken  no  law,  added,  "And  herein  do  I 
exercise  myself,  to  have  always  a  conscience 


222  LORD    CLARE^D0^'S    ESSAYS. 

void  of  offence  toward  God  and  toward 
men,"  (Acts  xxiv.  16.)  his  behaviour  was  so 
exact,  that  he  did  not  only  abstain  from  do- 
ing any  man  wrong,  but  from  giving  any 
man  a  just  occasion  to  be  offended  with  him. 
It  is  a  calamity  never  enough  to  be  lamented, 
that  this  legitimate  daughter  of  the  Gospel 
of  peace  should  grow  so  prodigiously  unnatu- 
ral and  impetuous,  as  to  attempt  to  tear  out 
the  bowels  of  her  mother,  to  tread  all  chari- 
ty under  foot,  and  to  destroy  all  peace  upon 
.the  earth;  that  conscience  should  stir  men 
up  to  rebellion,  introduce  murder  and  de- 
vastation, licence  the  breach  of  all  God's 
commandments,  and  pervert  the  nature  of 
man  from  all  Christian  charity,  humility,  and 
compassion,  to  a  brutish  inhumanity,  and 
delight  in  those  acts  of  injustice  and  oppres- 
sion that  nature  itself  abhors  and  detests; 
that  conscience,  that  is  infused  to  keep  the 
breast  of  every  man  clean  from  encroaching 
vices,  which  lurk  so  close  that  the  eye  of 
the  body  cannot  discern  them,  to  correct  and 
suppress  those  unruly  affections  and  appe- 
tites, which  might  otherwise  undiscerned 
corrupt  the  soul  to  an  irrecoverable  guilt, 
and  hath  no  jurisdiction  to  exercise  upon 
other  men,  but  it  is  confined  within  its  own 
natural    sphere;   that     this    enclosed    con- 


OF    CONSCIENCE.  223 

science  should  break  its  bounds  and  limits, 
neglect  the  looking  to  any  thing  at  home, 
and  straggle  abroad  and  exercise  a  tyrannical 
power  over  the  actions  and  the  thoughts  of 
other  men,  condemn  princes  and  magistrates, 
infringe  all  laws  and  order  of  government, 
assume  to  itself  to  appoint  what  all  other 
shall  do,  and  out  of  tenderness  to  itself,  ex- 
ercise all  manner  of  cruelty  towards  other 
men:  I  say  that  this  extravagant  presumption 
should  take  or  claim  any  warrant  from  con- 
science, is  worthy  of  the  anger  and  indigna- 
tion of  all  Christians,  and  of  a  general  com- 
bination to  reclaim  and  bind  op  this  unruly, 
destroying,  ravenous  underminer  and  de- 
vourer  of  souls.  The  apostle,  when  he  pre- 
scribed this  light  to  walk  by,  in  the  dark 
times  of  infidelity,  ignorance,  and  persecu- 
tion, knew  well  enough  how  unlimited  the 
fancy  and  pride  and  covertures  of  the  heart 
of  man  were;  and  therefore  he  takes  all  pos- 
sible care  to  establish  the  power  and  juris- 
diction of  kings  and  magistrates,  and  obedi- 
ence to  laws  under  the  obligation  of  conscience, 
and  required  subjection  to  all  those,  not  only 
for  wrath  (for  fear  of  punishment)  but  for 
conscience  sake:  and  the  same  apostle 
thought  it  a  very  necessary  prescription  to 
Timothy,  that  he  should  keep  his  diocese  to 


224  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

the  "holding  faith  and  a  good  conscience, 
which  some  having  put  away,  concerning 
faith  had  rnude  shipv-reck;"'  that  is,  some 
men,J)y  dej^arting  from  the  rules  of  con- 
science, bj  the  stiggestions  of  faith  and  re- 
ligion, they  made  shipwreck  of  that  faith  and 
religion  which  they  me.iDt  to  advance. — 
Conscience  is  the  best  bit  and  bridle  to  re- 
strain the  licence  and  excess  which  faith' 
itself  may  introduce  and  give  countenance 
to:  conscience  can  never  lead  us  into  any 
unwarrantable  and  unjust  action;  but  that  it 
is  not  enough,  he  whose  conscience  does 
not  check  and  restrain  him  from  entering 
into  actions  contrary  to  God's  command- 
ments, may  reasonably  conclude  that  he  hath 
no  conscience,  but  that  he  lies  under  tempta- 
tion which  ^EJjtnnot  prevail  without  laying  the 
conscience  Itesste,  and  rooting  out  all  that 
God  hath  planted  there;  and  a  man  may  as 
reasonably  pretend  to  commit  adultery  out 
of  conscience,  as  to  rebel  or  resist  lawful 
authority  by  the  obligation  of  conscience; 
and  they  who  think  themselves  qualified  for 
the  latter  by  that  impulsion,  can  never  find 
reason  to  subdue  a  strong  temptation  to  the 
other.  Conscience  may  very  reasonably 
restrain  and  hinder  a  man  from  doing  that 
which  would  be  consistent  enough  with  con- 


OF    CONSCIENCE.  225 

science  to  be  done;  nay,  it  may  oblige  him 
to  suffer  and  undergo  punishment,  rather 
than  to  do  that  which  might  be  lawful  for 
him.  It  is  not  necessary,  though  it  were  to 
be  wished,  that  every  man's  conscience 
should  be  so  sharp-sighted,  as  to  discern  the 
inside  of  every  doubt  that  shall  arise;  it  may 
be  too  hard  for  me,  ivhen  another  man  may 
be  as  much  too  hard  for  it,  and  then  1  ought 
not  to  dp  what  he  lawfully  and  justly  may 
do;  but  this  is  only  the  restrictive  negative 
power  of  conscience,  the  afBrmative  power 
hath  not|that  Sforce.  Conscience  can  never 
oblige  a  man  to  do,  or  excuse  him  for  doing, 
what  is  evil  in  itself,  as  treason,  murder,  or 
rebellion,  under  what  Specious  pretences 
soever,  which  want  of  understanding  and 
want  of  honesty  suggest  where  there  is  want 
of  conscience;  and  it  is  a  very  hard  thing  to 
assert,  that  any  thing  can  proceed  from  the 
conscience  of  that  man  who  is  void  of  know- 
ledge, since  there  is  some  science  necessary 
to  be  supposed,  where  there  is  a  pretence 
to  conscience. 

He  who  obstinately  refuses,  upon  the  ob- 
ligation of  conscience,  to  do  what  the  law 
under  which  he  lives,  and  to  which  he  owes 
subjection  and  obedience,  requires  him  posi- 
tively to  do,  had  need  to  be  sure  that  his 

VOL.  V.  32 


226  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

doing  of  that  which  he  is  enjoined,  and  de- 
nies to  do,  is  in  itself  sinful,  and  expressly  • 
forbid  by  the  word  of  God.  Doubting  in 
this  point  is  not  excuse  or  warrant  enough; 
the  reverence  he  ought  to  have  to  the  go- 
vernment and  governors  of  his  country,  that 
the  modest  believing  that  a  Christian  king- 
dom or  commonwealth  cannot  combine  to- 
gether to  damn  themselves,  and  all  who  live 
under  them,  should  have  power  and  autho- 
rity enough  to  suppress  and  over-rule  all 
doubts  to  the  contrary.  But  if  in  truth  the 
matter  be  so  clear  to  him,  that  by  obeying 
this  law  he  becomes  a  rebel  to  God,  I  know 
not  how  his  conscience  can  excuse  him  for 
staying  and  living  under  that  government, 
and  from  making  haste  away  to  be  under  the 
protection  of  another  government,  vvher© 
no  such  sinful  action  is  required  or  enjoined  j 
for  no  man  can  satisfy  his  own  conscience, 
that  though  his  courage,  for  the  present,  will, 
support  him  to  undergo  the  judgment  and 
penalty  that  his  disobedience  is  liable  to,  he 
may  not  in  the  end  be  weary  of  that  submis- 
sion; and  since  the  duty  is  still  incumbent 
upon  him,  and  may  still  be  required  of  him, 
he  may  not  at  last  purchase  his  peace  and 
quiet  with  complying  in  doing  that  which 
he  knows  is   sinful  and    must  offend   God 


OF    CONSCIENCE.  227 

Almighty;  and  therefore  methinks  he  should, 
at  the  same  time  he  resolves  to  disobey  a 
law  that  is  fixed,  and  not  very  probable  to 
be  altered,  quit  the  country  where  so  much 
tyranny  is  exercised,  and  repair  to  another 
climate,  where  it  is  lawful  to  give  unto  Cae- 
sar what  belongs  unto  Caesar,  and  to  give  un- 
to God  what  belongs  unto  God.  And  if  his  af- 
fection to  his  country  will  not  suflfer  him  to 
take  that  resolution,  it  is  probable  that  his  con- 
science is  not  so  fully  convinced  of  the  impie- 
ty of  the  laws  thereof;  and  the  same  affection 
should  labour  to  receive  that  satisfaction,  that 
he  may  be  reconciled  to  give  the  obedience 
the  laws  require.  The  submitting  to  any 
present  inconvenience  or  loss  or  damage, 
rather  than  do  somewhat  that  is  enjoined  by 
public  authority  to  be  done;  the  preferring 
reproach  and  disgrace,  before  honour  that 
must  be  attended  with  compliance  and  sub- 
mission to  what  is  required  of  us,  is  no  ar- 
gument that  such  refusal  is  an  effect  of  con- 
science; pride,  ambUion,  or  revenge,  will 
do  the  same,  to  raise  a  party  that  will  ena- 
ble him  to  compass  and  bring  that  to  pass 
which  he  most  desires.  We  see  nothing 
more  common,  than  for  men  of  much  wit 
and  no  conscience,  to  impose  upon  those 
who  have  no  wit  and  pretend  to  much  con- 


S28  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

science,  and  lead  them  into  ways  which  are 
too  rough  for  their  consciences  to  tread  in, 
and  to  ends  that  they  do  not  desire;  and  yet 
every  step   they  make  is   an   impulsion  of 
their  conscience:  their  conscience  will  not 
suffer  them  to  take  an  oath,  by  which  the 
wrong  they  have  done  may  be  discovered 
and   repaired,  yet  that  conscience  will  not 
compel  them  to  do  justice,  nor  restrain  them 
from  doing  injury  to  their  neighbours;  it  will 
neither  oblige  them  to  speak  truth,  that  may 
prejudice  a  man  they  favour,  nor  to  discover 
a  fraud,  by  which  they  may  be  bound  to  re- 
paration.    Conscience  is  made  the  refuge  of 
all  perverse  aud  refractory  men,  when  they 
will  not  observe  the  law,  and  the  warrant 
and  incitement  to  any  wickedness  when  they 
are  inclined  to  break  it:  whereas  conscience 
is  a  natural  restraint  within  us,  to  keep  us  from 
doing  what  our  foul  affections  and  passions 
may  tempt  us  to;  it  may  be  too  scrupulous, 
but  it  can  never  be  presumptuous;  it  may 
hinder  us  from  using  the  liberty  we  have, 
but  it  is  too  modest  to  lead  us  into  any  ex-  - 
cess;  it  is  liable  to  fear,  but  never   to  rash- 
ness  aud  impudent  undertakings:  "For  this 
is  thank-worthy,  if  a  man  for  conscience  to- 
wards God,  endure  grief,  suffering  wrongful- 
ly," says  St.  Peter,  (1  Peter  ii.  19.)  But  con- 


OF    CONSCIENCE.  229 

science  never  carried  a  man  into  actions  for 
which  he  is  justly  to  suffer:  that  is  true  ten- 
derness of  conscience,  which  is  tender  of 
other  men's  reputation,  shy  and  wary  what 
they  think  of  others,  and  not  that  which,  out 
of  tenderness  to  itself,  cares  not  how  it 
wrongs  and  violates  its  neighbours.  Con- 
science is  the  meekest,  humblest  thing  that 
can  be  conceived  of;  and  when  we  find  any 
proud  thoughts  to  ^rise  within  us,  such  as  ex- 
alt and  magnify  ourselves,  and  depress  the 
reputation  of  our  neighbour;  when  we  have 
,any  unpeaceable  inclination  to  disturb  the 
quiet  of  the  state,  or  the  repose  of  those  who 
live  about  us;  we  may  be  as  sure  that  those 
suggestions  do  not  proceed  from  conscience, 
as  that  the  lusts  of  the  flesh  do  not  proceed 
from  the  warmth  of  the  spirit. 

"The  tree  is  known  by  the  fruit,  a  good 
tree  cannot  bring  forth  evil  fruit;"  and  con- 
science is  best  known  by  the  effects;  if  the 
product  be  wrath,  malice,  pride,  and  conten- 
tion, we  may  swear  that  conscience  is  not 
the  mother  of  those  children,  which  can  pro- 
duce nothing  but  love,  humility,  and  peace; 
and  men  have  taken  too  much  pains  to  enti- 
tle her  to  the  other  unnatural  issue.  I  know 
not  Low  it  comes  to  pass,  except  it  be  from 
a  wanton  affectation  of  the  impropriety  of 


23@  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

speech,  that  men  find  out  epithets  for  con- 
science, which  niay  entitle  it  to  as  many 
reproaches  as  men  think  fit  to  charge  it  with: 
they  will  have  an  erroneous  conscience, 
which  no  doubt  will  contribute  to  as  many 
evil  actions  as  the  heart  or  hand  of  man  can 
be  guilty  of;  and  they  might  as  well  have 
called  it  an  impious  conscience;  when  in 
truth,  if  it  be  either  impious  or  erroneous,  it 
ceaseth  to  be  conscience;  it  is  not  consistent 
with  any  of  those  destructive  epithets,  nor 
receives  any  ornament  from  the  best  which 
can  be  annexed  to  it.  Conscience  implies 
goodness  and  piety,  as  much  as  if  you  call  it 
good  and  pious.  The  luxuriant  wit  of  the 
«chool-men  and  the  confident  fancy  of  igno- 
rant preachers  has  so  disguised  it,  that  all 
the  extravagancies  of  a  light  or  a  sick  brain, 
and  the  results  of  the  most  corrupt  heart, 
are  called  the  effects  of  conscience:  and  to 
make  it  the  better  understood,  the  con- 
science shall  be  called  erroneous,  or  cor- 
rupt, or  tender,  as  they  have  a  mind  to  sup- 
port or  condemn  those  effects.  So  that,  in 
truth,  they  have  made  conscience  a  disease 
fit  to  be  entrusted  to  the  care  of  the  physi- 
cian every  spring  and  fall,  and  he  is  most 
like  to  reform  and  regulate  the  operation  of 
it.     And  if  the  madness  and  folly  of  men  be 


or    CONSCIENCE.  231 

not  in  a  short  time  reformed,  it  will  be  fitter 
to  be  confined  as  a  term  in  physic  and  in  law, 
than  to  be  used  or  applied  to  religion  or  sal- 
vation. Let  apothecaries  be  guided  by  it  in 
their  bills,  and  merchants  in  their  bargains, 
and  lawyers  in  managing  their  causes;  in  all 
which  cases  it  may  be  waited  upon  by  the 
epithets  they  think  fit  to  annex  to  it;  it  is  in 
great  danger  to  be  robbed  of  the  integrity  in 
which  it  was  created,  and  will  not  have  pu- 
rity enough  to  carry  men  to  heaven,  or  to 
choose  the  way  thither.  It  were  to  be  wish- 
ed, that  some  pains  were  taken  to  purge 
away  that  dross,  which  want  of  understand- 
ing, or  want  of  honesty,  have  annexed  to  it, 
that  so  it  may  prove  a  good  guide;  or  that 
that  varnish  may  be  taken  from  it,  which  the 
artifices  of  ill  men  have  disfigured  it  with, 
that  it  be  no  longer  the  most  desperate  and 
dangerous  seducer:  lest  conscience  of  grati- 
tude, for  civilities  and  obligations  received, 
dispose  women  to  be  unchaste;  and  con- 
'science  of  discourtesies  and  injuries  done,  or 
intended  to  be  done,  provoke  men  to  re- 
venge; and  no  villany  that  ever  entered  into 
the  heart  of  man,  but  will  pretend  to  be 
ushered  thither  by  conscience.  If  it  cannot 
be  vindicated  from  these  impure  and  impious 
claims,  it  is  pity  but  it  should  be  expunged 


222  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

oat  of  all  discourses  of  religion  and  honesty, 
and  never  mentioned  as  relating  to  Chris- 
tianity: let  it  be  assigned  and  appropriated 
to  the  politicians,  to  cover  their  reason  of 
state  with,  and  to  disguise  all  treaties  be- 
tween princes  with  such  expressions,  that 
they  be  no  longer  bound  by  these  obliga- 
tions than  they  find  the  observation  of  them 
to  be  for  their  benefit  or  convenience;  let  it 
be  applied  only  to  the  cheats  and  cozenings 
of  this  world;  to  the  deceiving  of  women  in 
marriages;  to  the  overreaching  heirs  in 
mortgages  and  purchases;  but  let  it  never  be 
mentioned  in  order  to  our  salvation  in  the 
next  world,  or  as  if  it  could  advance  our 
claim  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Solomon  was  the  more  inexcusable  for  de- 
parting from  it,  by  his  knowing  what  the  calm 
and  ease  and  tranquillity  of  it  was;  and  he 
could  not  express  it  better  than  when  be 
says,  that  "a  good  conscience  is  a  continual 
feast."  Now" there  can  be  no  feast  where 
there  is  not  amity  and  peace  and  quiet;  a 
froward,  wayward,  proud,  and  quarrelling 
conscience,  can  never  be  a  feast,  nor  a  good 
guest  at  a  feast;  therefore  it  cannot  be  a  good 
conscience:  anger  and  ill  words  break  up  any 
feast;  for  mirth,  that  is  of  the  essence  of  a  feast, 
and  a  great  part  of  the  good  ciieer,  is  banish- 


OF    CONSCIENCE.  233 

ed  by  any  ill  humour  that  appears.  It  is  not 
the  quantity  of  the  meat,  but  the  cheerful- 
ness of  the  guests,  which  makes  the  feast;  it 
was  only  at  the  feast  of  the  Centaurs,  where 
they  ate  with  one  band,  and  had  their  drawn 
swords  in  the  other;  where  there  is  no  peace, 
there  can  be  no  feast.  Charity  and  tender- 
ness is  a  principal  ingredient  in  this  feast: 
the  conscience  cannot  be  too  tender,  too  ap- 
prehensive of  angrying  any  man,  of  grieving 
any  man;  the  feast  is  the  more  decently  car- 
ried on  never  interrupted  by  this  tenderness. 
But  if  it  be  tender  at  some  times,  scrupulous 
to  some  purposes,  is  startled  to  do  somewhat 
against  which  it  hath  no  objection,  but  that 
it  is  not  absolutely  necessary  to  be  done,  and 
at  other  times  is  so  rough  and  boisterous, 
that  it  leaps  over  all  bounds,  and  rushes  into 
actions  dishonest  and  unwarrantable,  neither 
the  tenderness  nor  the  presumption  hath  the 
least  derivation  from  conscience:  and  a  man 
in  a  deep  consumption  of  the  lungs  can  as 
well  run  a  race,  as  a  tender  conscience  can 
lead  any  man  into  an  action  contrary  to  vir- 
tue and  piety  It  is  possible  thnt  the  fre- 
quent appeals  that  are  made  upon  several 
occasions  to  the  consciences  of  ill  men,  do  in 
truth  increase  their  love  of  wickedness;  that 
)vhen  they  are  told  that  their  own  consciea- 


234  LORD    eLAREXBON*S    ESSAYS. 

ces  cannot  but  accuse  them  of  the  ill  they 
do,  and  they  feel  no  such  check  or  control  in 
themselves,  they  believe  from  thence  that 
they  do  nothing  amiss,  and  so  take  new  cou- 
rage to  prosecute  the  career  they  are  in:  it 
is  a  very  hard  thing  to  believe,  that  the  worst 
men  can  do  the  worst  things  without  some 
sense  and  inward  compunction,  which  is  the 
voice  of  their  conscience;  but  it  is  easy  to 
think  that  they  may  still  and  drown  that 
voice,  and  that  by  a  custom  of  sinning  they 
inay  grow  so  deaf  as  not  to  hear  that  weak 
voice;  that  wine  may  drive  away  that  heavi- 
ness that  indisposed  them  to  mirth,  and  ill 
company  may  shut  out  those  thoughts  which 
would  interrupt  it:  and  yet,  alas!  conscience 
is  not  by  this  subdued;  they  have  only  made 
an  unlucky  truce,  that  it  shall  not  beat  up 
their  q^uarters  for  some  time,  till  they  have 
surfeited  upon  the  pleasure  and  the  plenty 
of  men;  it  will  disturb  and  terrify  them  the 
more  for  the  repose  it  hath  suflFered  them  to 
take.  If  the  strength  of  nature,  and  the  cus- 
tom of  excesses,  hath  given  the  debauched 
person  the  privilege  of  not  finding  any  sick- 
ness or  indisposition  from  his  daily  surfeits, 
after  a  few  years  he  wonders  to  find  the -fa- 
culties of  his  mind  and  understanding  so  de- 
cayed that  he  is  become  a  fool,  and  so  muck 


OF    CONSCIENCE.  235 

aore  a  fool  if  he  does  not  find  it  before  he 
comes  to  that  age  that  usually  resists  all  dp- 
cay;  and  then  every  body  sees,  if  he  does 
not,  the  unhappiness  of  his  constitution,  that 
it  was  no  sooner  disturbed  by  those  excess- 
es. If  the  lustful  and  voluptuous  person, 
who  sacrifices  the  strength  and  vigour  of  his 
body  to  the  rage  and  temptation  of  his  blood, 
and  spends  his  nights  in  unchaste  embraces, 
does  not  in  the  instant  discover  how  much 
his  health  is  impaired  by  those  caresses,  he 
will  in  a  short  time,  by  weakness  and  dis- 
eases, have  good  cause  to  remember  those 
distempers:  and  so  that  conscience  that  is 
laid  asleep  by  a  long  licentious  life,  and  re- 
prehends not  the  foulest  transgressions,  doth 
at  last  start  up  in  sickness  or  in  age,  and 
plays  the  tyrant  in  those  seasons  when  men 
most  need  comfort,  and  makes  them  pay  dear 
interest  for  their  hours  of  riot,  and  for  the 
charms  they  used,  to  keep  it  in  that  lethargy 
that  it  might  not  awaken  them.  And  since 
it  cannot  be  a  feast,  because  it  is  not  a  good 
conscience;  being  an  evil  one,  it  must  be  fa- 
mine, and  torment,  and  hell  itself.  In  a 
word,  no  man  hath  a  good  conscience,  but 
he  who  leads  a  good  life. 


S36  LORD  clarendon's  ESSAVa. 


XX.       OF    WAR. 

MontpelHo:,  1070. 

As  the  plague  in  the  body  drives  all  per- 
sons away  but  such  who  live  by  it,  search- 
ers, and  those  who  are  to  bury  the  corpse, 
who  are  as  ready  to  strangle  those  who  do 
not  die  soon  enough,  as  to  bury  them;  and 
they  who  recover  are  very  long  tried  with 
the  malignity,  and  remain  longer  deserted  by 
their  neighbours  and  friends  out  of  fear  of 
infection;  so  war  in  a  state  makes  all  men 
abandon  it  but  those  who  are  to  live  by  the 
blood  of  it,  and  who  have  the  pillaging  of  the 
living  as  well  as  of  the  dead;  and  if  it  reco- 
ver, and  the  war  be  extinguished,  there  re- 
mains such  a  weakness  and  paleness,  so  ma- 
ny ghastly  marks  of  the  distemper,  that  men 
remain  long  frighted  from  t)ieir  old  familia- 
rity, from  the  confidence  they  formerly  had 
of  their  own  security,  and  of  the  justice  of 
that  state,  the  war  leaving  still  an  ill  odour 
behind  it,  and  much  infection  in  the  nature 
and  manners  of  those  who  are  delighted  with 
it.  Of  all  the  punishments  and  judgments 
that  the  provoked  anger  of  the  Divine  Pro- 
vidence can  pour  out  upon  a  nation  full  of 


OP  WAR.  237 

transgressions,  there  is  none  so  terrible  and 
destroy i tig  as  that  of  war.     David   knew  he 
did  wisely  when  he  preferred  and  chose  the 
plague  before  either  of  the  other  judgments 
that  he  was  to  undergo  for  numbering  the 
people,  though  it  cost  him  no  less  than  se- 
venty thousand  subjects;  so  vast  a   number 
that  three  months  pi  ogress  of  the  most  vic- 
torious and  triumphant  enemy  could   hardly 
have    consumed;  and   the  one  had  been  as 
much  the  hand  of  the  Lord  as  the  other,  and 
could    as    easily   have  been  restrained,   or 
bound  by  his  power:  the  arrow  of  pestilence 
was  shot  out  of  his  own  bow,  and  did  all  its 
execution  without  making  the  pride  or  ma- 
lice of  man  instrumental  in  it;  the  insolence 
whereof  is  a  great  aggravation  of  any  judg- 
ment that  is  laid  upon  us,  and  health  is  res- 
tored in  the  same  moment  the  contagion  ceas- 
eth;  whereas  in  war,  the  confidence  and  the 
courage  which  a  victorious  army  contracts 
by  notable  successes,  and  the  dejection  of 
spirit  and  the  consternation  which  a  subdu- 
ed party  undergoes  by  frequent  defeats,  is 
not  at  an  end^when  the  war  is  determined, 
but  hath  its  eflfects  very  long  after;  and  the 
tenderness  of  nature,  and   the  integrity  of 
manners,  which  are  driven  away,  or  power- 
fall  y  discouDtenanced  by  the   corruption  of 


238  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

war,  are  not  quickly  recovered;  but  instead 
thereof  a  roughness,  jealousy,  and  distrust 
introduced,  that  makes,  conversation  unplea- 
sant and  uneasy;  and  the  weeds  which  grow 
up  in  the  shortest  war  can  hardly  be  pulled 
up  and  extirpated  without  a  long  and  unsus- 
pected peace.  When  God  pleases  to  send 
this  heavy  calamity  upon  us,  we  cannot  avoid 
it;  but  why  we  should  be  solicitous  to  em- 
bark ourselves  in  this  leaky  vessel,  why  our 
own  anger,  and  ambition,  and  emulation, 
should  engage  us  in  unreasonable  and  unjust 
wars,  nay,  why,  without  any  of  these  provo- 
cations, we  should  be  disposed  to  run  to  war, 
and  periclUari periculi causa,  will  require  bet- 
ter reason  to  justify  us,  than  most  that  are 
concerned  in  it  are  furnished  with.  "Jugulan- 
tur  homines  ne  nihil  agatur,"  was  the  com- 
plaint and  amazement  of  a  philosopher,  who 
knew  ofnoneof  those  restraints  which  Chris- 
tianity hath  laid  upon  mankind.  That  men 
should  kill  one  another  for  want  of  some- 
what else  to  do  (which  is  the  case  of  all  vo- 
lunteers in  war)  seems  to  be  so  horrible  to 
humanity,  that  there  needs  no  divinity  to 
control  it.  It  was  a  divine  contemplation  of 
the  same  philosopher,  that  when  Providence 
had  so  well  provided  for,  and  secured  the 
.  peace  between  nations,  by  putting  the  sea 


OF    WAR.  23d 

between,  that  it  might  not  be  in  their  pow- 
er to  be  ill  neighbours,  mankind  should 
be  so  mad  as  to  devise  shipping,  to  affect 
death  so  much  sine  spe  sepultune;  and  when 
they  are  safe  on  land,  to  commit  themselves 
to  the  waves  and  the  fierce  winds,  quorum 
felicitas  est  ad  bella  perferri;  and  that  those 
winds  which  God  had  created,  ad  custodieji' 
dam  coeli  terrarumque  lemperian,  and  to  che- 
rish the  fruits  and  the  trees  of  the  earth, 
should  be  made  use  of  so  contrary  to  his  ia- 
tentions,  ut  legiaiics,  equitemque  gestarent, 
and  bring  people  (whom  he  had  placed  at 
that  distance)  together,  to  imbrue  their  hands 
in  each  other's  blood;  indeed  it  must  be  a 
very  savage  appetite,  that  engages  men  to 
take  so  much  pains,  and  to  run  so  many  and 
great  hazards,  only  to  be  cruel  to  those  whom 
they  are  able  to  oppress. 

They  who  allow  no  war  at  all  to  be  law- 
ful, have  consulted  both  nature  and  religion 
much  better  than  they  who  think  it  may  be 
entered  into  to  comply  with  the  ambition, 
covetousness,  or  revenge  of  the  greatest 
princes  and  monarchs  upon  earth:  as  ii  God 
had  only  inhibited  single  murders,  and  left 
mankind  to  be  massacred  according  to  the 
humour  and  appetite  of  unjust  and  unreason- 
ble  men,  of  what  degree  or  quality  soever; 


240  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

They  who  think  it  most  unlawful,  know  well 
that  force  may  be  repelled  with  force;  and 
that  no  man  makes  vvar,  who  doth  only  de- 
fend what  is  his  own  from  an  attempt  of  vio- 
lence; he  who  kills  another  that  he  may  not 
be  killed  himself,  by  him  who  attempts  it,  is 
not  guilty  of  murder  by  the  law  of  God  or 
man.  And  truly,  they  who  are  the  cause 
and  authors  of  any  war  that  can  justly  and 
safely  be  avoided,  have  great  reason  to  fear 
that  they  shall  be  accountable  before  the  su- 
preme Judge  for  all  the  rapine  and  devasta- 
tion, all  the  ruin  and  damage,  as  well  as  the 
blood,  that  is  the  consequence  of  that  war. 
War  is  a  licence  to  kill  and  slay  all  those 
who  inhabit  that  land,  which  is  therefore 
called  the  enemy's,  because  he  who  makes 
the  war  hath  a  mind  to  possess  it;  and  must 
there  not  many  of  the  laws  of  God,  as  well 
as  of  man,  be  cancelled  and  abolished,  before 
a  man  can  honestly  execute  of  take  such  a 
licence?  What  have  the  poor  inhabitants  of 
that  land  done  that  they  must  be  destroyed 
for  cultivating  their  own  land,  in  the  country 
where  they  were  born?  and  can  any  king 
believe  that  the  names  of  those  are  left  out 
of  the  records  of  God's  creation,  and  that 
the  injuries  done  to  them  shall  not  be  con- 


OF    WAR.  241 

sidered?  War  is  a  depopulation,  defaces  all 
that  art  and  industry  hath  produced,  destroys 
all  plantations,  burns  churches  and  palaces, 
and  mingles  them  in  the  same  ashes  with  the 
cottages  of  the  peasant  and  the  labourer;  it 
distinguishes  not  of  age,  or  sex,  or  dignity, 
but  exposes  all  things  and  persons,  sacred 
and  profane,  to  the  same  contempt  and  con- 
fusion; and  reduces  all  that  blessed  order 
and  harmony,  which  hath  been  the  product 
of  peace  and  religion,  into  the  chaos  it  was 
first  in;  as  if  it  would  contend  with  the  Al- 
might}'  in  uncreating  what  he  so  wonderful- 
ly created,  and  since  polished.  And  is  it 
not  a  most  detestable  thing,  to  open  a  gap  to 
let  this  wild  boar  enter  into  the  garden  of 
Christians,  and  to  make  all  this  havoc  and 
devastation  in  countries  planted  and  watered 
by  the  equal  Redeemer  of  mankind,  and 
whose  ears  are  open-  to  the  complaints  of 
the  meanest  person  who  is  oppressed?  It  is 
no  answer  to  say  that  this  universal  suffer- 
ing, and  even  the  desolation  that  attends  it,  / 
are  the  inevitable  consequences  and  events 
of  war,  how  warrantably  soever  entered  into, 
but  rather  an  argument,  that  no  war  can  be 
warrantably  entered  into,  that  may  produce 
such  intolerable  mischiefs;  at  least  if  the 
ground  be  not  notoriously  just  and  necessa- 
voL.  V.  33 


242  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

ry,  and  like  to  introduce  as  much  benefit 
to  the  world  as  damage  and  inconvenience 
to  a  part  of  it;  and  as  much  care  taken  as  is 
possible,  to  suppress  that  rage  and  licence, 
which  is  the  wanton  cause  of  half  the  de- 
struction. 

It  may  be,  upon  a  strict  survey  and  dis- 
quisition into  the  elements  and  injunctions 
of  the  Christian  religion,  no  war  will  be  found 
justifiable,  but  as  it  is  the  process  that  the 
law  of  nature  allows  and  prescribes  for  jus- 
tice sake,  to  compel  those  to  abstain  from 
doing  wrong,  or  to  repair  the  wrong  they 
have  done,  who  can  by  no  other  way  be  in- 
duced to  do  either;  as  when  one  sovereign 
prince  doth  an  injury  to  another,  or  suffers 
his  subjects  to  do  it  without  control  or  pun- 
ishment; in  either  of  which  cases,  the  in- 
jured prince,  in  his  own  right,  or  the  rights 
of  his  subjects,  is  to  demand  justice  from 
the  other,  and  to  endeavour  to  obtain  it  by 
all  the  peaceable  me^ns  that  can  be  used; 
and  then  if  there  be  an  absolute  refusal  to 
give  satisfaction,  or  such  a  delay,  as  in  the 
inconvenience  amounts  to  a  refusal,  there  is 
no  remedy  left,  but  the  last  process,  which 
is  force;  since  nothing  can  be  in  itself  more 
odious,  or  more  against  the  nature  and  in- 
etitutioa   of  sovereign   power,   than   to  d© 


OF  WAft.  243 

wrong,  and  to  refuse  to  administer  justice; 
and,  therefore,  the  mischiefs  which  attend, 
and  which  cannot  hut  fall  upon  the  persons 
and  fortunes  of  those  who  are  least  guilty  of 
the  injury  and  injustice,  because  the  dam- 
age can  very  hardly  reach  the  prince,  but 
in  his  subjects,  will  be  by  the  supreme  Judge 
cast  upon  his  account,  who  is  the  original 
cause  and  author  of  the  first  transgression. 
And  if  it  be  very  difficult  to  find  any  other  just 
cause  to  warrant  so  savage  a  proceeding  as 
all  war  produces,  what  can  we  think  of  most 
of  that  war  which  for  some  hundred  of  years 
has  infested  the  Christian  world,  so  much  to 
the  dishonour  of  Christianity,  and  in  which 
the  lives  of  more  men  have  been  lost  than 
.  might  have  served  to  have  driven  infidelity 
out  of  the  world,  and  to  have  peopled  all 
those  parts  which  yet  remain  without  in- 
habitants? Can  we  believe  that  all  those 
lives  are  forgotten,  and  that  no  account 
shall  be  rendered  of  them?  If  the  saving 
the  life  of  any  single  person  who  is  in 
danger  to  perish,  hath  much  of  merit  in 
it,  though  it  be  a  duty  incumbent  to  hu- 
manity, with  what  detestation  and  horror 
must  vve  look  upon  those,  who  upon  delibe- 
ration are  solicitous  to  bring  millions  of 
men  together  to  no  other  purpose  than  to 
kill  and  destroy;  and  they  who  survive  are 


244  i,oRD  clarendon's  essavs. 

conducted  as  soon  as  may  be  to  another 
butchery,  to  another  opportunity  to  kill 
more  men,  whom  they  know  not,  and  with 
whom  they  are  not  so  much  as  angry.  The 
grammarians  have  too  much  reason  to  de- 
rive bellum,  a  beltuis  ;  all  war  hath  mucli  of 
the  beast  in  it;  immane  quiddamet  belltia- 
rum  simile ;  very  much  of  the  man  must  be 
put  ofi"  that  there  may  be  enough  of  the 
beast:  princes  must  be  obeyed,  and  be- 
cause they  may  have  just  cause  of  war,  their 
subjects  must  obey  and  serve  them  in  it, 
without  taking  upon  them  to  examine  whe- 
ther it  be  just  or  no,  Servi  iua  est  conditio;  ra- 
tio ad  te  nihil;  they  have  no  liberty  to  doubt 
when  tberr  duty  is  clear  to  obey;  but  where 
there  is  none  of  that  obligation,  it  is  won- 
derful, and  an  unnatural  appetite  that  dis- 
poses men  to  be  soldiers,  that  they  may 
know  how  to  live,  as  if  the  understanding 
the  advantage  how  to  kill  most  men  together, 
were  a  commendable  science  to  raise  their 
fortune;  and  what  reputation  soever  it  may 
have  in  politics,  it  can  have  none  in  religion, 
to  say,  that  the  art  and  conduct  of  a  soldier 
is  not  infused  by  nature,  but  by  study,  ex- 
perience, and  observation;  and  therefore 
that  men  are  to  learn  it,  in  order  to  serve 
their  own  prince  and  country,  which  may  be 
Jissaulted  and  invaded  by  a  skilful  enemy,  and 


OF    WAR.  240 

hardlj"  defended  by  ignorant  and  unskilful 
oflBcers;  when,  in  truth,  the  man  who  con- 
scientiously weighs  this  common  argument, 
vvilljfind  that  it  is  made  by  appetite,  to  excuse, 
and  not  by  reason  to  support,  an  ill  custom; 
since  the  guilt  contracted  by  shedding  the 
blood  of  one  single  innocent  man,  is  too  dear 
a  price  to  pay  for  all  the  skill  that  is  to.  be 
learned  in  that  devouring  profession;  and 
that  all  the  science  that  is  necessary  for  a 
just  defence  may  be  attained  without  con- 
tracting a  guilt,  which  is  like  to  make  the  de- 
fence the  more  difficult.  And  we  have  in- 
stances enough  of  he  most  brave  and  effec- 
tual defences  made  upon  the  advantage  of  in- 
nocence, against  the  boldest,  skilful,  and  inju- 
rious aggressor,  whose  guilt  often  makes  his 
understanding  too  weak  to  go  through  an  un- 
just attempt,  against  a  resolute  though  less 
experienced  defender. 

It  must  seem  strange  to  any  one,  who 
considers  that  Christian  religion,  that  is 
founded  upon  love,  and  charity,  and  humili- 
ty, should  not  only  not  extinguish  this  unruly 
appetite  to  war,  but  make  the  prosecution  of 
it  the  more  tierce  and  cruel;  there  having 
scarce  been  so  much  rage  and  inhumanity 
practised  in  any  war,  as  in  that  between 
Christians,     The  ancient  Romans^  who  fpr 


246  LORD  CLARENDON  S  ESSAYS. 

some  ages  arrived  to  the  greatest  perfection 
in  the  observation  of  the  obligations  of  hon- 
our, justice,  and  humanity,  of  all  men  who 
had  no  light  from  religion,  instituted  a  par- 
ticular triumph  for  those  their  generals  who 
returned  with  victory  without  the  slaughter 
of  men.  It  were  to  be  wished,  that  the 
modern  Christian  Romans  were  endued  with 
the  same  blessed  spirit,  and  that  they  be- 
lieved that  the  voice  of  blood  is  loud  and 
importunate;  they  would  not  then  think  it 
their  oflBce  and  duty,  so  far  to  kindle  this 
firebrand  war,  and  to  nourish  all  occasions 
to  inflame  it,  as  to  obstruct  and  divert  all 
overtures  of  extinguishing  it;  and  to  curse 
and  excommunicate  all  those  who  shall  con- 
sent or  submit  to  such  overtures,  when  they 
are  wearied,  tired,  and  even  consumed  with 
weltering  in  each  other's  blood,  and  hav^ 
scarce  blood  enough  left  to  give  them 
strength  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  peace. 
What  can  be  more  unmerciful,  more  unwor- 
thy of  the  title  of  Christians,  than  such  an 
aversion  from  stopping  those  issues  of  blood, 
and  from  binding  up  those  wounds  which 
have  been  bleeding  so  long?  and  yet  we 
have  seen  those  inhuman  bulls  let  loose  by 
two  popes,  who  would  be  thought  to  have 
the  sole  power  committed  to  them  by  Christy 


OP    PEACE.  247 

to  inform  the  world  of  his  will  and  pleasure; 
the  one  against  the  peace  of  Germany,  and 
the  other  against  that  with  the  Low  Coun- 
tries; by  both  which  these  his  vicars  gene- 
ral absolve  all  men  from  observing  it, 
though  they  are  bound  by  their  oaths 
never  to  swerve  from  it.  We  may  pious- 
ly believe,  that  all  the  princes  of  the  world, 
*ho  have  wantonly,  or  without  just  and 
manifest  provocation,  obliged  their  subjects 
to  serve  them  in  a  war,  by  which  millions 
of  men  have  been  exposed  to  slaughter,  fire, 
and  famine,  will  sooner  find  remission  of 
all  the  other  sins  they  have  committed,  than 
for  that  obstinate  outrage  against  the  life  of 
man,  and  the  murders  which  have  been  com- 
mitted by  their  authority. 


XXI,    OF    PEACE. 

Montpellier,   1070. 

It  was  a  very  proper  answer  to  him  who 
asked,  why  any  man  should  be  delighted 
with  beauty?  that  it  was  a  question  that 
none  but  a  blind  man  could  ask;  since  any 
beautiful  object  doth  so  much  attract  the 
sight  of  all  men,  that  it  is  in  no  man's  pow- 
er not  to  be  pleased  with  it.     Nor  can  any 


248  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

aversion  or  malignity  towards  the  object,  ir- 
reconcile  the  eyes  from  looking  upon  it:  as 
a  man  who  hath  an  envenomed  and  mor- 
tal hatred  against  another,  who  hath  a  most 
graceful  and  beautiful  person,  cannot  hin- 
der his  eye  from  being  delighted  to  be- 
hold that  person;  though  that  delight  is  far 
from  going  to  the  heart;  as  no  man's  mal- 
ice towards  an  excellent  musician  can  keep 
his  ear  from  being  pleased  with  his  music. 
No  man  can  ask  how  or  why  men  come 
to  be  delighted  with  peace,  but  he  who  is 
without  natural  bowels,  who  is  deprived  of 
all  those  affections,  which  can  only  make 
life  pleasant  to  him.  Peace  is  that  harmony 
in  the  state,  that  health  is  in  the  body. 
No  honour,  no  profit,  no  plenty  can  make 
him  happy,  who  is  sick  with  a  fever  in 
his  blood,  and  with  defluctions  and  aches 
in  his  joints  and  bones;  but  health  restor- 
ed gives  a  relish  to  the  other  blessings,  and 
is  very  merry  without  them:  no  kingdom 
can  flourish  or  be  at  ease,  in  which  there 
is  no  peace;  which  only  makes  men  dwell 
at  home,  and  enjoy  the  labour  of  their 
own  hands,  and  improve  all  the  advanta- 
ges which  the  air,  and  the  climate,  and 
the  soil  administers  to  them;  and  all  which 
yield  no  comfort,  where  there  is  no  peace. 
God    himself  reckons    health    the  greatest 


•^w      qu! 


OP    PEACE.  249 

blessing  be  can  beston-  upon  mankind,  and 
peace  the  greatest  comfort  and  oruament  he 
can  confer  upon  states;  which  are  a  multi- 
tude of  men  gathered  together.  They  who 
dehght  most  in  war,  are  so  much  ashamed  of 
it,  that  they  pretend  Pacifi  gerere  negotium  ; 
to  have  no  other  end,  to  desire  nothing  but 
peace,  that  their  heart  is  set  upon  nothing 
else.  When  Caesar  was  engaging  ail  the 
world  in  war,  he  tvrote  to  Tully,  "Neque 
tuti'is,  neque  honestius  reperies  quidquam, 
quam  ab  omni  contentione  abesse;"  there 
as  nothing  worthier  oC  an  honest  man  than 
have  contention  with  nobody.  It  was  the 
highest  aggravation  that  the  prophet  could 
find  out  in  the  description  of  the  greatest 
wickedness,  that  "  the  way  of  peace  they 
knew  not;"  and  the  greatest  punishment  of  all 
their  crookedness  and  perverseness  was, 
that  "they  should  not  know  peace."  A 
greater  curse  cannot  befal  the  most  wicked 
nation,  than  to  be  deprived  of  peace.  There 
is  nothing  of  real  and  substantial  comfort  ia 
this  world,  but  what  is  the  product  of  peace; 
and  whatsoever  we  may  lawfully  and  inno- 
cently take  delight  in,  is  the  fruit  and  effect 
of  peace.  The  solemn  service  of  God,  and 
performmg  our  duty  to  him  in  the  exercise 
of  regular  devotion,  which  is  the  greatest 


250  LORD  -clarendon's  essays. 

business  of  our  life,  and  in  which  we  ought 
to  take  most  delight,  is  the  issue  of  peace. 
War  breaks  all  that  order,  interrupts  all  that 
devotion,  and  even  extinguisheth  all  that 
zeal,  which  peace  bad  kindled  in  us,  lays 
waste  the  dwelling-place  of  God  as  well  as 
©f  naan;  and  introduces  and  propagates  opin- 
ions and  practice,  as  much  against  heaven  as 
against  earth,  and  erects  a  deity  that'delights 
in  nothing  but  cruelty  and  blood.  Are  we 
pleased  with  the  enlarged  commerce  and 
society  of  large  and  opulent  cities,  or  with 
the  retired  pleasures  of  the  country?  do  we 
love  stately  palaces,  and  noble  houses,  or 
take  delight  in  pleasant  groves  and  woods, 
or  fruitful  gardens,  which  teach  and  instruct 
nature  to  produce  and  bring  forth  more 
fruits,  and  flowers,  and  plants,  than  her  own 
store  can  supply  her  with?  all  this  we  owe 
to  peace;  and  the  dissolution  of  this  peace 
disBgures  all  this  beauty,  and  in  a  short  time 
covers  and  buries  all  this  order  and  delight 
in  ruin  and  rubbish.  Finally,  have  we  any 
content,  satisfaction,  and  joy,  in  the  conver- 
sation of  each  other,  in  the  knowledge  and 
understanding  of  those  arts  and  sciences, 
which  more  adorn  mankind,  than  all  those 
buildings  and  plantations  do  the  fields  and 
grounds  on  which  they  stand?  even  this  is 


OF    PEACE.  251 

the  blessed  effect  and  legacy  of  peace;  and 
war  lays  our  natures  and  manners  as  waste 
as  our  gardens  and  our  habitations;  and  we 
can  as  easily  preserve  the  beauty  of  the  one, 
as  the  integrity  of  the  other,  under  the  curs- 
ed jurisdiction  ol  drums  and  trumpets. 

"If  it  be  possible,  as  much  aslieth  in  you, 
live  peaceably  with  all  men,"  was  one  of  the 
primitive  injunctions  of  "Christianity,  Rom. 
xii.  18,  and  comprehends  not  only  particular 
and  private  men  (though  no  doubt  all  gentle 
and  peaceable  natures  are  most  capable  of 
Christian  precepts,  and  most  affected  with 
them)  but  kings  and  princes  themselves.-— 
St.  Paul  knew  well,  that  the  peaceable  in- 
clinations and  dispositions  of  subjects  could 
do  little  good,  if  the  sovereign  princes  were 
disposed  to  war;  but  if  they  desire  to  live 
peaceably  with  their  neighl:)ours,  their  sub- 
jects cannot  but  be  happy.  And  the  plea- 
sure that  God  himself  takes  in  that  tem- 
per, needs  no  other  manifestation,  than 
the  promise  our  Saviour  makes  to  those 
who  contribute  towards  it,  in  his  sermon 
upon  the  mount,  "Blessed  are  the  peace- 
makers, for  they  shall  be  called  the  children 
of  God,''  Matt.  V.  9.  Peace  must  needs  be 
very  acceptable  to  him,  when  the  instru- 
ments towards  it  are  crowned  with  such  a 


S62  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

full  measure  of  blessing;  and  it  is  no  hard 
matter  to  guess  whose  children  they  are, 
who  take  all  the  pains  they  can  to  deprive 
the  world  of  peace,  and  to  subject  it  to  the 
rage  and  fury  and  desolation  of  war.  If  we 
had  not  the  -woful  experience  of  so  many 
hundred  years,  we  should  hardly  think  it 
possible,  that  men  who  pretend  to  embrace 
the  gospel  of  peace,  should  be  so  unconcern- 
ed in  the  obligation  and  effects  of  it;  and  when 
God  looks  upon  it  as  the  greatest  blessing  he 
can  pour  down  upon  the  heads  of  those  who 
please  him  best,  and  observe  his  commands, 
"I  will  give  peace  in  the  land,  and  ye  shall 
lie  down,  and  none  shall  nriake.you  afraid," 
Lev.  xxvi.  6,  that  men  study  nothing  more 
than  how  to  throw  off  and  deprive  them- 
selves and  others  of  this  his  precious  bounty; 
as  if  we  were  void  of  natural  reason,  as  well 
as  without  the  elements  of  religion:  for 
nature  itself  disposes  us  to  a  love  of  society, 
which  cannot  be  preserved  without  peace. 
A  whole  city  on  fire  is  a  spectacle  full  of 
horror,  but  a  whole  kingdom  on  fire  must  be 
a  prospect  much  more  terrible;  and  such  is 
every  kingdom  in  war,  where  nothing  flour- 
ishes but  rapine,  blood,  and  murder,  and  the 
faces  of  all  men  are  pale  and  ghastly,  out  of 
the  sense  of  what  they  have  done,  or  of  what 


OF    PEACE*  253 

they  have  suffered,  or  are  to  endure.  The 
reverse  of  all  this  is  peace,  which  in  a  mo- 
ment extinguishes  all  that  fire,  Binds  up  all 
the  wounds,  and  restores  to  all  faces  their 
natural  vivacity  and  beauty.  We  cannot 
make  a  more  lively  representation  and  em- 
blem to  ourselves  of  hell,  than  by  the  view 
of  a  kiowdom  in  war;  where  there  is  nothing 
to  be  seen  but  destruction  and  lire,  and  the 
discord  itself  is  a  great  part  of  the  torment: 
nor  a  more  sensible  reflection  upon  the  joys 
of  heaven,  than  as  it  is  all  quiet  and  peace, 
and  where  nothing  is  to  be  discerned  but 
consent  and  harmony,  and  what  is  amiable 
in  all  the  circumstances  of  it.  And  as  far 
as  we  may  warrantably  judge  of  the  inhabi- 
tants of  either  climate,  they  who  love  and 
cherish  discord  among  men,  and  take  delight 
in  war,  have  large  mansions  provided  for 
them,  in  that  region  of  faction  and  disagree- 
ment; as  we  may  presume,  that  they  who 
set  their  hearts  upon  peace  in  this  world,  and 
labour  to  promote  it  in  their  several  stations 
amongst  all  men,  and  who  are  instruments  to 
prevent  the  breach  of  it  amongst  princes 
and  states,  or^  to  renew  it  when  it  is  broken, 
have  infallible  title  to  a  place  and  mansion 
in  heaven;  where  there  is  only  peace  in 
that  perfection,  that  all  other  blessings  ar^ 
comprehended  in  it,  and  a  part  of  it. 


254  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 


XXII.       OF    SACRILEGE. 

On  a  Fast-day  at  Jersey,  1641. 

The  original  and  ground  of  the  first  institu* 
lion  of  fasts  and  solemn  days  of  humiliation, 
was  to  deprecate  God's  judgment,  and  to  re- 
move some  heavy  aflflictions  either  actually 
brought  upon  or  immediately  threatened  by 
him  upon  that  people;  and  in  order  there- 
unto to  make  a  faithful  inquisition  into  all 
sins,  and  to  enter  into  a  covenant  against 
those  which  seem  to  be  most  cordially  em- 
braced by  us,  and  consequently  the  most 
likely  causes  of  the  present  calamities  we 
groan  under:  so  that  though  every  act  of  de- 
votion should  raise  in  us  a  detestation  of  all 
sins  whatsoever,  yet  as  a  particular  fast  is 
commonly  for  the  removal  of  a  particular 
judgment,  so  the  devotion  of  that  day  will 
not  be  too  much  circumscribed  and  limited, 
if  it  be  intent  upon  the  inquisition  into  the 
nature  and  mischief  of  one  particular  sin, 
and  in  the  endeavour  to  raise  up  some  fence 
and  fortification  that  that  sin  may  not  break 
in  upon  us;  especially  if  it  be  such  a  one,  as 
either  our  own  inclinations,  or  the  iniquity 
and  temper  of  the  time  in  which  we  live,  is 
like  to  invite  us  to.  If  the  business  of  our 
fasts  be  only  to  inveigh  and  pray  against  the 


N 
OF    SACRILEGE.  255 

sins  we  are  least  inclined  to,  we  make  them 
indeed  days  of  triumph  over  other  men's 
wickedness,  not  of  humiliation  for  our  own; 
and  arraign  them,  not  prostrate  ourselves 
before  God.  If  the  parliament's  fast-days 
had  been  celebrated  with  a  due  and  ingenu- 
ous disquisition  of  the  nature  and  odiousness 
of  hypocrisy,  rebellion,  and  profaneness,  in- 
stead of  discourses  against  popery,  tyranny, 
and  superstition;  which,  though  they  are 
grievous  sins,  were  not  yet  the  sins  of  those 
congregations;  and  if  the  fast-days  observ<!d 
by  the  king's  party  had  been  spent  in  prayer 
for,  and  sincere  study  of  temperance,  justice, 
and  patience  in  adversity,  of  the  practical 
duties  of  a  Christian,  of  the  obligations  of 
conscience  to  constancy  and  perseverance 
in  our  duty,  and  of  the  shame  and  dishonesty 
and  impiety  of  redeeming  our  fortunes  or 
lives  with  the  breach  of  our  conscience, 
instead  of  arguments  against  taking  up  arms 
against  lawful  authority,  sedition,  and  schism; 
which,  though  they  are  enormous  crimes, 
were  not  yet  the  crimes  of  those  congrega- 
tions; both  parties  without  doubt  would  not 
have  been  as  constant  to  their  own  sins  as  to 
their  fasts;  as  if  all  their  devotions  had  been 
to  confirm  them  in  what  they  had  done 
amiss,  and  in  the  end  to  shake  hands  in  the 


266  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

same  sins,  and  determine  all  further  dispute 
of  oaths,  by  an  union  in  perjury,  a  general 
taking  the  covenant,  and  to  extinguish  rebel- 
lion by  an  universal  submission,  and  guilt  in 
sacrilege. 

I  have  not  yet  met  with  any  n)an  so  hardy 
as  to  deny  that  sacrilege  is  a  sin;  or  to  aver 
that,  being  a  sin,  a  man  may  be  guilty  of  it 
for  any  worldly  consideration  or  advantage 
whatsoever;  and  yet,  as  if  there  were  no 
such  thing  in  nature,  or  as  if  it  were  only  a 
term  of  art  to  perplex  men  in  debates,  men 
of  all  tempers,  and.  scarce  reconcileable  in 
any  other  conclusion  or  design,  are  very 
frankly  and  lovingly  united  in  this  mystery 
of  iniquity:  which  '  cannot  be  so  uncharita- 
ble as  to  believe  proceeds  from  a  vicious 
habit  of  the  mind,  but  an  inadvertency  and 
incogitancy  of  the  nature  tmd  consequence 
of  the  sin  itself.  It  would  not  otherwise 
be,  that  a  thing  that  hath  been  so  odious 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world  amongst  all 
brave  nations,  who  have  been  endued  but 
with  the  light  of  nature,  and  have  made  any 
pretence  to  virtue,  that  they  could  not  fix  a 
brand  of  more  infamy  upon  the  most  exorbi- 
tant person  in  the  practice  of  all  vice,  than 
to  call  him  a  sacrilegious  person,  should  be 
now  held  of  so  little  moment  amongst  Cbris- 


OF    SACRILEGE.  257 

tiaDS;  and  that  when  all  things  dedicated  and 
separated  for  holy  uses  have  been  always 
accounted  and  reputed  so  sacred  by  men  of 
all  religions,  or  pretenders  to  religion,  that 
where  any  violation  hath  been  offered  to  the 
temples  of  any  gods,  when  a  country  hath 
been  pronounced  to  be  destroyed  with  lire 
and  sword,  and  all  cruelty  practised  by  or- 
der against  all  ages  and  sexes,  the  general 
of  those  armies  has,  by  his  sacrilege,  lost  the 
reward  of  his  other  conquests,  and  been 
punished  with  infamy  and  dishonour  by  those 
who  have  enjoyed  the  benetit  of  his  victory, 
though  they  served  not  those  Gods,  or  ac- 
counted them  such  whom  he  had  spoiled:  as 
we  find  frequent  examples  in  the  Roman 
story;  who,  besides  that  justice  upon  those 
accidents,  celebrated  some  devotions  to  ab- 
solve their  state  from  the  guilt,  and  ordered 
reparation  and  restitution  to  be  made  to 
those  deities  which  had  been  robbed  and 
profaned;  yet  after  sixteen  hundred  years 
study  and  profession  of  Christianity,  those 
horrible  crimes  should  pass  by  us,  and  we 
pass  through  them,  not  only  without  the 
least  compunction  of  conscience,  but  with- 
out the  least  blush  or  apprehension  of  a  fault. 
"Will  a  man  rob  God?"  says  the  prophet 
Malachi,  ch.  iii.  8,  none  will  be  so  impudent- 
VOL-  V.  34 


258  LORD  clarendon's  E6SAYS. 

ly  wicked  to  say  he  will;  "Yet  ye  have  rob- 
bed me:  but  ye  say,  wherein  have  we  robbed 
thee?"  "In  tithes  and  offerings,"  says  the 
same  spirit.  Pretend  what  you  will  to  reve- 
rence, and  fear  of  God,  if  you  take  away 
what  is  consecrated,  what  ie  dedicated  to 
him,  you  do  no  better  than  rob  God  himself; 
and  rob  him  with  all  those  circumstances 
which  most  offend  and  grieve  him.  Tremel- 
lius  renders  it  "spoliatis  me,"  but  the  vul- 
gar hath  it  "configitis  me,"  which  is  worse: 
spoiling  a  man,  supposes  some  great  act  of 
violence  in  the  circumstance,  but  a  man  that 
is  spoiled  may  be  yet  left  at  liberty  to  shift 
for  himself,  and  may  find  relief  again  by 
others;  but  "configitis  me,"  you  have  not 
been  content  to  rob  and  to  spoil  me,  but  you 
have  nailed  me,  you  have  bound  me  fast, 
that  I  cannot  stir  to  keep-  myself,  nor  to  go 
to  others  to  help  me.  He  that  commits 
sacrilege,  hath  done  the  best  he  can  to  bind 
God  so  fast,  to  put  him  in  that  condition, 
that  nobody  should  serve  him;  and  therefore 
amongst  the  Jews,  he  that  was  guilty  of  it 
was  thought  to  offend  God  primario,  and  to 
sin  against  the  first  table;  whereas,  as  other 
thefts  or  robberies  were  but  offences  against 
the  second  table,  they  spoiled  not  God  him- 
self: and  we  cannot  think  reasonably  that 
this  was  a  sin  only  under  the  law,  and  is  none 


OF    SACRILEGE.  259 

under  the  gospel.  If  there  had  been  no 
such  thing  in  nature,  St.  Paul  sure  would 
never  have  reproached  the  Romans  with 
their  hypocrisy,  in  pretending  to  abhor  idol- 
atry, and  yet  committing  sacrilege.  And 
that  argumentation  by  interrogating  is  very 
observable,  as  if  idolatry  and  sacrilege  were 
one  and  the  same  sin;  "Thou  that  preach- 
est  a  man  should  not  steal,  dost  tho^  steal? 
Thou  that  sayest  a  man  should  not  commit 
adultery,  dost  thou  commit  adultery?  Thou 
that  abhorrest  idols,  dost  thou  commit  sa- 
crilege?" "Non  multura  distat,"  says 
the  learned  Grotius,  "falsos  Deos  colere, 
et  verum  spoliare;"  there  is  a  very  lit- 
tle difference  between  adoring  false  gods,  and 
robbing  the  true  God.  And  that  the  robbing 
and  defrauding  the  church,  is  this  very  sacri- 
lege condemned,  appears  e  vidently  by  that  say- 
ing of  the  town-clerk  in  the  Acts,  "Ye  have 
brought  hither  these  men,  which  are  neither 
robbers  of  churches,  nor  yet  blasphemers  of 
your  goddess,"  Acts  xix.  37.  Where  the 
same  word  is  used  in  the  original  [U^tnXov) 
which  St.  Paul  uses  to  the  Romans,  which 
is  no  where  applied  to  any  other  robbers 
throughout  the  Scripture.  If  it  were  pos- 
sible that  men  who  have  no  piety  should 
bave  any  justice,  even  that  alone,  without 
the  other,  would  give  a  rule  in  this   point: 


260  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

with  what  justice  can  that,  which  the  good- 
ness and  bounty  of  our  ancestors  have  di- 
rected to  our  use,  be  taken  away,  and  ap- 
plied to  another,  nay,  to  such  a  one  as  we 
are  morally  sure  is  a  use  the  founders  or  do- 
nors would  never  have  given  the  same?  I 
doubt  not,  but  there  may  be  a  supposition  of 
such  uses  as  may  not  be  agreesible  to  the 
policy  and  peace  of  the  state,  but  then  the 
act  itself  is  void,  and  no  such  grant  can  be 
made;  or,  if  the  policy  of  succeeding  times 
find  that  use  (being  a  civil  use)  inconven- 
ient to  the  present  temper,  and  so  abrogate 
it,  it  will  be  still  as  if  there  were  no  donation, 
and  the  thing  given  must  revert  to  his  use, 
whose  it  would  naturally  have  been  if  there 
had  been  none  such.  Neither  can  laws  in 
those  cases  alter  the  matter  of  right  and  jus- 
tice; it  may  render  me  more  potent  to  do 
hurt  and  injury,  by  making  that  damage  and 
injury  unpeiial  to  me;  it  cannot  make  the 
thing  I  do,  just,  or  lessen  my  guilt  before 
God;  I  speak  of  things  evil  in  themselves, 
as  all  things  are  which  God  himself  hath  ex- 
pressly inhibited  to  be  done;  and  therefore, 
if  there  were  an  act  of  parliament,  which 
authorized  the  stronger  to  rob  or  kill  the 
weaker,  I  do  not  think  any  man  will  say,  that 
is  less  murder  or  theft  before  God,  than  if 
there  were  no  such  act;  aod,  I   confess,  I 


OF    SACRILEGE.  261 

cannot  apprehend  how  spoiling  or  defraud- 
ing the  church  cau  be  less  sacrilege,  by  what 
authority  soever  men  are  qualified  to  com- 
mit it. 

But  if  we  examine  this  a  little  farther, 
we  shall  find,  that  though  no  man  ^s  I  said 
before)  denied  sacrilege  to  be  a  sin,  yet  very 
many  deny  that  to  be  sacrilege,  which  hath 
been  commonly  accounted  sacrilege:  they 
do  not,  or  seem  not  to  believe,  that  it  is  the 
same  sin  in  the  gospel  that  it  was  in  the 
law;  at  least,  that  things  do  not  become  dedi- 
cated in^  the  same  manner  to  God  under  the 
gospel,  as  they  did  under  the  law;  because, 
as  to  a  gift,  there  is  always  to  be  a  receiver 
as  well  as  a  giver,  so  there  is  not  evidence 
under  the  gospel,  that  God  doth  accept  and 
receive  what  is  given,  as  there  was  under 
the  law,  and  therefore  that  it  cannot  be  sac- 
rilege: they  are  contented  that  shall  be  sac- 
rilege as  it  is  ecclesiastical  robbery;  and  that 
as  it  is  felony  to  steal  a  pot  out  of  a  common 
house,  so  it  shall  be  sacrilege  to  steal  the 
chalice  out  of  the  church,  and  are  willing 
that  they  shall  be  equally  punished  for  it; 
but  they  are  not  all  satisfied  to  allow  that" 
distinction,  or  that  there  is  any  difference  of 
places  now:  and  they  are  in  truth  the  more 
ingenuous  of  the  two,  and  they  will  best  de- 
fine the  committing  of  sacrilege,  who  do  re- 


*^262         LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

ject  all  difference  and  distinction  of  persons 
and  places;  and  so  neither  leave  God  him- 
self a  capacity  of  being  robbed,  nor  suffer 
those  who  claim  under  him,  by  serving  at 
his  altar,  or  his  church.,  to  have  a  propriety 
in  any^thing,  of  which  they  may  not  be  de- 
prived for  the  conveniency  of  a  great  man, 
or  of  the  state  in  which  they  live.  But  these 
men  may  remember,  that  they  give  no  bet- 
ter, or  indeed  other  reasons  for  this  their 
bold  assertion,  than  their  progenitors  the 
heathens  did,  when  they  were  possessed  with 
their  spirit,  to  contradict  a  definition  of  sac- 
rilege, current  in  all  times,  as  agreeable  to 
the  law  of  nature:  "Q,uisquis  id  quod  Deo- 
rumest  sustulitet  consumpsit,  atque  in  usum 
suum  vertit,  sacrilegus  est:"  they  thought 
they  refelled  this  proposition  very  substan- 
tially, when  they  denied  this  to  be  sacrilege, 
because  of  the  universal  povver  and  domin- 
ion the  gods  had  over  all  things  and  places, 
"Quia  quicquid  sublatum  est  ex  eo  loco,  qui 
Deorum  erat,  in  eum  transfertur  locum  qui 
Deorum  est."  Nor  need  there  be  another 
answer  given  to  them  than  the  philosopher, 
who  I  doubt  was  a  better  divine  than  many 
of  their  teachers,  then  gave,  "Omnia  quidem 
Deorum  esse,  sed  non  omnia  Diis  dicata;" 
slnd  he  convinced  them  by  an  argument  very 
like  their  own,  that  all  the  world  was  the 


OF    SACRILEGE.  263 

temple  of  the  immortal  gods,  ("Solum  qui- 
dem  amplitudine  illonim  ac  magnificentia 
dignum;)  et  tamen  a  ?acris  profana  decerni, 
et  non  omnia  licere  in  angulo,  ciii  nomen  fani 
impositus  est,  quae  sub  ca3lo  et  conspeclu  si- 
derum  licent;"  many  things  may  be  done  in 
other  phices  which  are  neither  tit  or  lawful 
to  be  done  in  churches,  or  places  dedicated  to 
God's  service.  The  most  sacrilegious  per- 
son cannot  do  any  injury  to  God,  "Qiiem  ex- 
tra ictum  sua  divinitas  posuit,  sed  tamen  puni- 
tur  quia  tanquam  Deo  fecit."  If  this  were 
not  known  to  be  Seneca's,  it  might  be  well 
owned  by  those  casuists  who  are  to  dispute 
with  these  men;  who  yet,  it  may  be,  will 
rather  choose  to  be  converted  by  the  philo- 
sopher, as  it  is  the  dictate  of  natural  reason, 
without  the  authority  of  the  church.  And 
it  can  never  be  enough  lamented,  that  after 
places  have  been  set  aside  in  all  nations, 
from  the  time  of  which  we  have  any  records, 
and  assigned  for  the  peculiar  service  and 
worship  of  that  divinity  that  was  there  ac- 
knowledged; and  after  so  much  pious  care 
for  the  building  of  churches  to  that  end, 
from  the  time  that  Christianity  hath  had  any 
authority  in  the  world;  that  the  Christian 
clergy  owned  and  acknowledged  under  that 
appellaAon,  and  who,  according  to  the  judg- 
ment of  a  learned  man,  I  think^  as  any  age 


264  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

hath  brought  (Mr.  Mede)  can  derive  their 
descent  from  the   apostles  themselves;  that 
is,  from  those  for  whom  their  Lord  and  Mas- 
ter prayed  unto  his  Father,  (John  xvii.  17.) 
"Sanctify  them  (Father)  unto  or  for  thy  truth: 
thy  word  is  truth;"  that   is,  saith  be,   sepa- 
rate them   unto  the  ministry  of  thy  truth:  I 
say,  it  is  matter  of  great  lamentation,   that 
these  places  and  these   persons  should  now 
be  esteemed  so  common,  and  of  so  little  re- 
gard, and  to   be    looked    upon    as  the  only 
places  and  persons  to  which   an   injury  can- 
not be  done,  or  to  whom  an  affront  or  indig- 
nity cannot  be  committed.     And  it  is  a  very 
weighty  observation   by  the  said    Mr.  Mede 
(who  never  received  tithes  or  offerings,  and 
was  too  little  known  in  the  church  whilst  he 
lived,)  that  they  are   in  a  great  error,  who 
rank  sacrilege  as  a  sin  against  the  eighth  com- 
mandment; for  though  he  that  commits   sa- 
crilege, indirectly  and  by  consequence  robs 
men  too,  namely,  those  who  should  live  upon 
God's   provision,   yet,  as   sacrilege,  it  is  a 
sin  of  the  first  table,   and  not  of  the  second, 
a  breach  of  the  loyalty  we  immediately  owe 
to  God,  and  not  of  the    duty  we  owe  to  our 
neighbour;  and  then  he  cites  the  texts  men- 
tioned before  in  Malachi,  "Will  a   man  rob 
God,"  &c.     And  truly ,  methinks,  there  is 
too  mach  seiid  in  the  N  ew  Testament  against 


OF    SACRILEGE.  265 

this  sin,  to  leave  it  in  the  power  of  any  man 
to  imagine,  that  what  is  said  in  the  Old  is  ab- 
rogated. 

No  man  must  imagine  that  this  monstrous 
sin  is  contracted  to,  or  in  any  one  cUmate  or 
region,  and  affected  only  by  those  of  any  one 
religion;  it  is  equally  spread  amongst  all  na- 
tions, and  more  practised  and  countenanced 
amongst  those  of  the  catholic,  than  of  the 
reformed  religion;  at  least  was  firsst  introduc- 
ed and  practised  by  them,  before  it  was  by 
these.  Emperors  and  kings  contrive  and 
permit  it;  and  popes  themselves  no  other- 
wise contradict  it,  than  that  they  would  not 
have  it  committed  without  their  special  li- 
cense and  dispensation;  by  which  it  was  first 
planted  in  England,  and  as  warranlably  pro- 
pagated afterwards  by  him,  who  had  as  much 
authority  to  do  it  himself,  as  with  the  con- 
sent of  the  pope.  They  who  know  how 
many  abbeys,  and  other  ecclesiastical  pro- 
motions, are  at  present  possessed  by  lay- 
men, and  what  pensions  are  daily  granted 
upon  bishoprics,  and  other  revenues  of  the 
church,  to  laymen  and  other  secular  uses, 
throughout  the  catholic  dominions  of  Ger- 
many, Italy,  France,  and  Spain,  will  rather 
wonder  that  there  is  so  fair  revenues  yet 
left  to  the  church  in  protestant  countries, 
than  that  so  much  hath  been  taken  away; 


266  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

which  for  the  most  part  was  done  in  catho- 
lic times,  and  by  catholic  authority:  and  it 
is  a  wonderful  thing  how  little  hath  beea 
said  in  the  one  church  or  the  other,  in  jus- 
tification or  excuse  of  what  hath  been  so 
much  practised  in  both;  and  they  who  have 
attempted  it  have  done  it  so  obscurely,  upon 
such  suppositions,  and  with  such  reserva- 
tions and  distinctions,  as  if  they  endeavour- 
ed to  find  out  or  contrive  a  more  warranta- 
ble and  decent  way  to  do  that  which  ought 
not  to  be  done  at  all;  and  what  they  allow 
proves  to  be  as  unlawful  by  their  own  rules, 
as  what  they  condemn;  which  falls  out  very 
often  to  be  the  case  in  the  writings  of  the 
school-men,  and  amongst  the  modern  casu- 
ists. And  it  may  be,  they  who  are  most  con- 
scientiously troubled  and  aflBicted  with  the 
sense  of  the  sin,  and  the  punishment  that 
must  reasonably  attend  it,  and  to  see  so  many 
noble  and  great  families  involved  insensibly 
under  a  guilt,  that  is  already  in  some  de- 
gree punished,  in  their  posterities  degene- 
rating from  the  virtue  of  their  ancestors, 
and  their  noble  blood  corrupted  with  the 
most  abject  and  vulgar  affections  and  conde- 
scensions; I  say,  these  good  men  are  not 
enough  affected,  to  search  and  find  out  ex- 
pedients and  cures,  to  redeem  these  trans- 
gressions, and  to    wipe  out  the  guilt  from 


OF    SACRILEGE.  267 

those  who  do  heartily  desire  to  expiate  for 
the  errors  and  faults  of  their  forefathers. — 
Many  men  are  involved  in  sacrilege  without 
their  privity  or  consent,  by  inheritances  and 
descents;  and  it  may  be,  have  made  purchas- 
es very  innocently  of  lands  which  they  never 
knew  had  been  dedicated  to  the  church:  and 
it  cannot  reasonably  be  imagined  that  either 
of  these,  especially  if  they  have  no  other 
estates,  or  very  little,  but  what  are  marked 
with  the  same  brand,  will,  out  of  the  con- 
science of  their  great-grandfather's  impiety, 
ransom  themselves  from  a  leprosy  which  is 
not  discernible,  by  giving  away  all  they 
have;  and  which  by  established  laws  is  as 
unquestionably  their  own,  as  any  thing  can 
be  made  to  belong  to  any  man:  but  they  will 
rather  leave  their  ancestors  to  pay  their 
own  forfeitures,  and  be  very  indulgent  to 
those  arguments  which  would  persuade  them, 
that  what  was  sacrilege  a  hundred  years 
since,  is  so  purged  away  in  so  many  de- 
scents that  it  ceases  to  be  so  in  the  present 
possessor:  however,  he  will  never  file  away 
the  stain  that  may  yet  remain  in  his  skin, 
with  an  instrument  that  will  open  all  his 
veins,  till  his  very  heart's  blood  issue  and 
be  drawn  out.  Nor  can  it  be  expected  that 
he  who  hath  innocently  and  lawfully  pur- 
chased what  was  innocently  and  lawfully  to 


S68  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

be  sold,  because  he  finds  afterwards  that 
those  lands  had  so  many  years  since  belong- 
ed to  some  religious  house;  which  if  he  had 
known  he  would  not  have  bought,  will  there- 
fore lose  his  money,  and  leave  the  land  to 
him  whose  conscience  will  give  him  leave 
to  take  it;  for  though  he  might  innocently, 
because  ignorantly,  buy  it,  he  cannot  after 
his  discovery  sell  it  with  the  same  inno- 
cence; but  he  will  choose  a  lawyer,  rather 
than  a  bishop  for  his  confessor,  and  satisfy 
himself  with  that  title  which  he  is  sure  can 
be  defended.  In  a  word,  he  must  depart 
too  much  from  his  natural  understanding, 
who  believes  it  probable,  that  all  that  hath 
been  taken  from  the  church  in  former  ages, 
will  be  restored  to  it  in  this  or  those  which 
shall  succeed,  to  the  ruin  of  those  many 
thousand  families  which  enjoy  the  alienations, 
though  they  do  not  think  that  it  was  at  first 
with  justice  and  piety  aliened;  but  will  sat- 
isfy themselves  with  the  possession,  and  by 
degrees  believe,  that  since  it  must  not  be  re- 
stored to  those  uses  and  ends,  to  which  it  was 
at  first  dedicated  and  devoted,  it  may  be  as 
justly  enjoyed  by  them  with  their  other  title, 
as  by  any  other  persons  to  whom  it  may  be 
assigned.  Whereas,  if  learned,  prudent, 
and  conscientious  men,  upon  a  serious  de- 
liberation and  reflection  of  the  great  mercy 


OP    SACRILEGE.  269 

of  God,  and  that  under  the  law  he  both  per- 
mitted and  prescribed  expedients  to  expiate 
for  trespasses  and  oflfences,  which,  by  inad- 
vertency and  without  malice,  men  frequent- 
ly run  into,  and  therefore  that  it  may  be 
piously  hoped,  that  in  a  transgression  of  this 
nature,  he  will  not  be  rigorously  disposed 
to  exact  the  utmost  farthing  from  the  heirs 
of  the  transgressors,  who,  with  the  authori- 
ty of  the  government  under  which  they  liv- 
ed, and  in  many  cases  with  the  consent  and 
resignation  of  those  in  whom  the  interest 
was  fully  invested,  became  unwarily  owners 
of  what  in  truth,  in  a  manner,  was  taken 
from  God  himself;  1  say,  if  such  men,  upon 
such  and  other  recollections  which  might 
occur  to  them,  would  advise  a  reasonable 
method,  in  which  they  who  are  possessed 
of  estates  and  fortunes  of  that  kind,  may 
well  assign  a  proportion  of  what  they  enjoy 
to  such  pious  and  charitable  uses,  as  may 
probably  do  as  much  good  as  those  estates 
did  when  they  were  in  their  possession  from 
whom  they  were  taken,  and  yet  not  deprive 
the  owners  of  more  than  they  may  without 
great  damage  part  with.  It  is  very  possible, 
that  very  many,  out  of  the  observation  of 
the  misfortunes  which  have  often  befallen 
the  posterity  of  those  who  have  been  emi- 
nently enriched  by  those  sacred  spoils,  and 


270  LORD  clarendon's  essays. 

it  may  be  out  of  some  casual  reflections  and 
reluctancy  which  now  and  then  may  inter- 
rupt the  most  cheerful  divertisements,  would 
dedicate  somewhat  of  what  they  enjoy,  to- 
wards the  reparation  of  what  charity  hath 
for  a  long  time  si^ered;  and  by  nis  means 
the  poor  bishoprics,  which  cannot  supportthe 
dignity  of  the  function,  maybe  better  endow- 
ed, poor  vicarages  comfortably  supplied,  and 
other  charitable  works  performed  in  the  edu- 
cation of  poor  children,  and  the  like.  And 
they  who  thus  contribute,  out  of  the  freedom 
and  bounty  of  their  own  natures,  will  find  a 
serenity  of  mind  that  will  please  them,  and 
make  them  believe  that  the  rest  will  prosper 
the  better,  and  that  they  have  more  left 
than  they  enjoyed  before;  and  when  the  mat- 
ter hath  been  well  and  discreetly  weighed, 
and  good  mediums  instilled  into  the  minds  of 
men,  by  conference  and  conversation,  the 
method  and  prescription  will  be  most  pow- 
erfully given  by  the  hberality  and  example 
of  those  who  are  wrought  upon  by  the  other, 
or  by  their  own  contemplation. 

It  is  observable,  that  in  these  violent  and 
furious  attempts  against  the  church,  albeit  his 
majesty  hath  always  publicly  declared,  that 
his  not  complying  with  them  in  that  particu- 
lar, (the  doing  whereof  many  have  supposed 
would  have  procured  him  his  desires  in   all 


OT    SACRILEGE.  271 

other  particulars)  proceeds  purely  from  mat- 
ter of  conscience,  and  principally  from  the 
conclusion,  that  what  they  desire  is  sacrilege; 
there  hath  been  no  application  to  his  person, 
nor  any  sober  animadversion  in  writing,  to  in- 
form his  judgment  that  it  is  not  sacrilege,  but 
only  some  allegations  of  former  tiroes,  it  may 
be  too  faulty  in  that  particular,  and  the  authori- 
ty of  that  council  which  think  they  have 
power  to  compel  him  to  consent  to  it,  whe- 
ther it  be  sacrilege  or  not;  nor  hath  that  as- 
sembly of  divines,  who  have  so  frankly  given 
their  consent  to  the  destruction  of  that 
church  to  which  they  had  formerly  sub- 
scribed, and  who  are  so  ready  to  apply  sat- 
isfaction to  the  consciences  of  men  in  many 
things  which  are  enjoined  against  the  light 
of  their  own,  yet  presumed  to  publish  any 
thing  to  inform  the  minds  of  men  in  this  ar- 
gument. So  that  there  being  so  little  said 
for  it,  how  much  soever  is  done,  a  man  can- 
not so  easily  enlarge  his  thoughts  in  a  dis- 
quisition against  it;  but  had  best  enlarge  his 
heart  by  prayer,  that  the  torrent  of  worldly 
power,  or  temptation  of  profit,  may  neither 
overwhelm  nor  corrupt  him,  to  what  his 
conscience,  reason,  or  understanding,  can 
never  otherwise  be  invited. 


INDEX. 


I.    Of  Haman  Kature      ......     5 

U.    .  .  Life      .       « g 

in.    .  .  Reflectioiis  upon  the    Happiness  Trhidi  we 

may  enjoy,  in  and  from  ourselves  •  .12 
IV.  .  .  Impudent  Delight  in  Wickedness  .  •  51 
v.    .  .  Drankenness    .......50 

VI.    .  .  Knvy 73 

Vn.    .     Pride 77 

Vm.    .  .  Anger 91 

IX.    .  .  Patience  in  Adversity    .....    95 
X.    .  .  Contempt  of  Death,  and  the  best  [miTidtiig 

for  it -117 

XI.    .  .  Friendship    .......      an 

XIL    .  ,  Counsel  and  Convenation       ....  140 

XIIL    .  .  Promises       .......      154 

XTV.    .  .  Liberty    ........  itX 

XV.    .  .  Industry      .......169 

XVI.    .  .  Sickness  .        -        .        .        .       ..        .172 

XVn.    .  .  Patience       .......176 

XVIII.    .  .  Repentance     .......  179 

XIX.    .  .  Conscience  .......        230 

XX.    .  .  War 236 

XXL    .  .  Peace   ........S47 

XXn.    .  .  S«criJ^e 2M 

TBB   EITB* 


